


A New Direction

by EClairedeLoon



Category: Glee
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 288,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EClairedeLoon/pseuds/EClairedeLoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Evans was a rational person. So why was he leaving Dalton, again? Eventual Hevans with Blaine and Co. friendship. AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is quite AU. Some of it is massively AU, like it is known and accepted that some men are able to bear children. That's right, this may mention MPREG. Probably just in passing, but be forewarned. It will not be a major part in this fic, but just know that is may be mentioned in passing. I am usually a Klaine shipper, but this little ficlet came to me in the night and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. So, Kurt never goes to Dalton to spy; therefore he never meets Blaine of the rest of his trusty Warbler troupe. But never fear! Sam is a transfer from Dalton, so it's very likely that Blaine and Co. will make an appearance. I have taken a lot of liberties with Sam. His past, his family, etc, so I have tried to make things as clear as possible :P
> 
> This _was_ designed to be a long one-shot, but it really didn't work out that way. When I finally sat down to write it, it just got away from me!. Even though it's AU, I'm going to put a spoilers warning out there for all episodes. This is my first foray into fanfiction, so constructive criticism and any other reviews are much appreciated! :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I definitely don't own the brilliance that is Glee. That privilege belongs to the genius that is Ryan Murphy and Co.
> 
> WARNING: This is slash! That means boys loving other boys. If you don't like it, please, don't read it. Thanks! This is rated M for eventual explicit sex.
> 
> _Italics_ \- Thought
> 
> Virtual cookies if you can spot the nerdtastic references!
> 
> * * *

Okay, so Sam was having an anxiety attack. What in the world had possessed him when he told his parents he wanted to go to public school? Why would he ever want to leave the safety Dalton?

_Dalton_. His great friends, his amazing academic opportunities. The zero-tolerance bullying policy. Gone, because he had to get restless and want to experience the "real world", not Dalton's sheltered, idealistic representation. So long, private school.

What had really cemented Sam's decision were his parents. Self-made millionaires from the sweet state of Louisiana. They were high school sweethearts that had made their fortunes in the business world. His dad, Robert Evans, had hit it big in the engineering world. His dad had fantasized about being an artist as a child, and found a practical (and lucrative) way to make his dreams come true.

Then there was his mom. Sam wasn't ashamed to admit he was a bit of a momma's boy. Patricia Evans (nee Caldwell) was a kind and gentle woman. Her mom had risen like a small but determined star in the fashion world. While she still dreamt of creating her own line, she was currently the Creative Director for Michael Kors and lamented the fact that her son was fashion challenged. Loudly. And often.

Though they had built themselves from the ground up, Sam's parents wanted him to have every opportunity possible. As an only child, Sam knew his parents doted on him shamelessly. While being grateful, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that he was living a sheltered life. Sure, he had been all over the world, met more people and seen more places than most people ever would.

But it wasn't real.

Growing up in the circles he did, he knew that everything was a game. Everything was a carefully constructed match of chess. Nothing wasn't planned. Conversations, outfits, marriages, trips. All planned to broaden the empire and strengthen and economical hold. For the longest time, Sam refused to have friends. He didn't want to surround himself with people that only wanted his parents money or connections, _whatever._

_Finally,_ Sam had found Blaine, Wes, and David. All looking for the same thing. And now he was leaving. What. The. HELL?

Telling his friends had been hard. Telling his parents was bound to be harder. He was terrified that they would think he was being ungrateful by wanting to waste all the money they had already invested in his private education. While they hadn't paid for the upcoming year yet (he may have hacked into the family bank account to monitor the situation…), he knew all the previous years had added up. A lot. But he knew he had to say something before they paid for the new year. He girded his loins, gathered his courage (read: excuses) and chose his battlefield.

The dinner table.

Of course they had made his favorite meal. Coincidence? Not likely. This had to be some weird cosmic conspiracy to guilt him into keeping his big mouth shut. Pun most definitely intended. (Blaine said "pouty", Sam said he was crazy) He picked at his grilled lamb chops and pushed his mashed potatoes around his plate. His mom kept shooting him concerned looks. His dad did too, but in between eating, watching the game on the TV inside, trying to hide the fact he was watching the game from his wife, and attempting to seem interested in something called a "valance" (apparently, they had new ones...).

We he first told his parents his desire to transfer to public school, he was met with silence. Over dinner, sitting at their outside dinner table (Glass and wrought iron, _thank you very much_. Patricia Evens does _not_ approve of your pressed wood picnic tables), Sam quickly blurted out that he wanted to leave Dalton.

Well, blurted is putting it nicely. The combination of nerves and indigestion actually caused him to scream "I DON'T WANNA GO TO DALTON ANYMORE!". This garnered him the immediate and full attention of him parents. They looked to one another in confusion, then back to Sam.

"Is somebody giving you trouble?" his mother asked. "You know you can tell us."

"No, no trouble," Sam forced out.

"…Is this about a girl?" his dad asked slyly. Patricia smiled at her husband before turning her question gaze to her son once more.

"NO!" he choked out, only causing them to smile wider. Honestly, what girls? He went to an all boy's school!

"You know, I thought you seemed pretty close to Melody last time she came around with her mother. Did you want to go to Carmel? Is that it?" his mom inquired gently.

"NO! Sheesh. No girls," Sam said. What was wrong with him? What happened to all his plans? His carefully concocted reasons? Why wouldn't his mouth work?

"Well, what about boys? Boys are okay too. We're open like that," said his dad, with a crocodile grin. His mom snorted into her white wine and looked to her husband with a conspiratorial smirk on her face.

_Oh God, mouth. Fix. This. Now. Don't let this deteriorate into ANOTHER sex talk. Open! OPEN! Wait- boys?_

"Uhhh, boys? W-what gave you that idea?" _What? Of all the things that need to be said, you go with "boys"?_ At this point Sam was convinced that there was someone living inside him with a vendetta against him. And that could make his mouth move.

His mother sighed. Okay, they were going there. "Honey," she began. "Honey, you don't need to get defensive about it. We just want to let you know, that _whoever_ you choose to be with, we're okay with it. And we may have found some… things," His mom finished with a little laugh.

_Things? THINGS?_ Sam's mind spiraled out of control. _Oh sweet Star Wars, what did they find?_ At this point, Sam was hesitant to cop to anything, lest he mention something they _hadn't_ found.

Suddenly, his dad roared with laughter, startling Sam out of his reverie. He looked away from his formerly delicious lamb and to his parents and saw his them trying (and failing) to hold in their amusement.

"For the love of God, Sammy, relax!" his dad said through his laughter. "And stop making that noise!"

_Noise? What noise?_ Sam then became aware of this dull whine filling the air. It sounded like their dog , R2 (don't hate, Star Wars rocks…) was in distress. _Wait- is that me?_ Sam thought. He cleared his throat.

Sure enough, the low whine ceased. Sam flushed an attractive red. His mom quieted her giggles and looked fondly upon her son. He was such a good looking boy. She looked to Robert and sighed. They had made a one helluva kid. Where Robert was tall, blond, and sturdy, she was a delicate brunette. While Sam favored his father, he had her green-hazel eyes and full lips. _Gorgeous_ she thought. He musings were cut short when Sam finally managed to sputter out a response to his original question.

"It's not a girl. And it's not a boy," he began. "It's has nothing to do with me being sweet on anyone. I just…" he trailed off, trying to gather his courage once more.

"Take your time, son. We're listening," his dad said encouragingly.

Sam smiled weakly at his dad. He was so lucky. He knew this conversation wouldn't have gone over half as well with the majority of his classmates parents.

"Well, it's just… it's not real. Dalton. Don't get me wrong! It's been great and I am so grateful for the opportunity to be there. I love the classes, and I made some really great friends, but it isn't the real world. There are so many fake smiles and a constant undercurrent of tension between everyone. It is great to not have to worry about being bullied and all… but I just can't help but feel like it's not really getting me ready for what life will be like in college. Or even after that…" Sam trailed off, collecting his thoughts. He braved a glance at his parents. They were both quiet and looking at him with expectant faces. His mom opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait- just let me finish," he begged. She nodded and gestured for him to continue. "I know that these next two years will be all about applying to college, but I already have really good SAT and ACT scores, and I am confident that I can make it into a good school, regardless of where I apply from. Leaving behind Blaine and Wes and David is going to _suck_ , like, big time, but I feel like I _have_ to do this. Do- do you understand?" Sam finished and looked imploringly at his parents. _Please,_ he thought _please let them not be mad_.

To his great surprise, his parents both smiled at him like they had when he'd gotten an A on that molto defficile Italian exam. _…What?_

"Oh, Sam," his mom said in a thick voice, unshed tears in her eyes. "We're so proud of you." She reached across the table and held his hand within her own.

_Proud? They were proud?_ His confusion must have showed on his face. His father reached across the table and covered their already joined hands with his own.

"You want to do this for exactly the right reasons. You've reached the point where you know Dalton can't really help you. Your mother and I debated what kind of school to enroll you in until there were only a few weeks left before you were due to start kindergarten. Heck! Your mother almost had me convinced to home school you!" he said with a chuckle.

"Mom!" Sam said, aghast. Patricia just shrugged her shoulders and flushed prettily.

"Anyway, we put you in private school because we thought it would be easier. But you're right, it isn't the real world. And we are so happy that you are such a mature young man that you can see that for yourself," finished his father.

"So… does this mean that you'll let me go to McKinley?" Sam asked hesitantly. He had chosen McKinley after much deliberation. Carmel was much too like Dalton for his tastes. A public school only in name. Besides, after his disastrous fling with Jesse St. James, he feared for his life. If they were all like him, he would be in some _serious_ trouble. _Curse Blaine and his incessant matchmaking!_ _I'm surprised he didn't put me off guys for life!_

While, admittedly, he didn't know as much about McKinley, they did have a football team and they had just gotten an awesome coach, and that was enough for him. It was public, it was within reasonable driving distance, and yeah, okay, it did have girls. But, news flash, boys were great too! If his parents didn't go for this, he was stuck at Dalton because he sure as hell wasn't going to Carmel.

His parents were talking quietly to one another, voices so hushed Sam couldn't hear what they were saying no matter how hard he tried to eavesdrop like the little school girl he felt like. His mom was biting her lip and gesturing in a way he felt didn't bode well for his case, but his father was speaking calmly and appeared to be reasoning with her. _Oh, please please please._

Sam was now praying to any and all deities that may be listening. _Someone, just, anyone, please don't make me go back to uniform hell! I'll never put lemon juice in my hair again!_ WAIT! _That's a lie. Ummm, how about I never hide the music from the Warblers again, even though Wes turns awesome colors when he's flustered? What about that?_ During his frantic pleas, his parents seemed to have come to a conclusion. Robert cleared his throat, capturing the attention of his panicking son.

"Well, while we're not crazy about the idea of you going to McKinley, we trust your judgment. We just want you to talk to us, let us know how things are going. If at any point you want to go back to Dalton, just say the words and you're there," his father said.

"Wait, what? Just like that?" Sam asked, bewildered. "Not that I am complaining, but I have been freaking of for _weeks_ , trying to figure out the best way to say this. I mean, I made lists! I did research! You guys… you're really okay with it? Or are you trying some weird reverse psychology on me?" This wouldn't be the first time Sam's dad had messed with him like this. His father was a giant kid, the eternal prankster. Very rarely was Sam ever able to pull one over on his father. He looked to his mother for confirmation.

"Sam, sugar, we aren't trying to trick you. We're sorry that you spent all this time worrying yourself sick over something that was solved so easily. But, please baby, talk to us sooner next time, we might be able to save you a lot of suffering. And yes, while _I_ have some reservations about McKinley, your father and I trust you to speak if something isn't right. We know that things are going to be so, so different than Dalton, so we just want you to know you can come to us with anything you have a hard time adjusting to, And we won't make fun of you. Right, Robert?" Patricia looked at her husband in a vaguely menacing way.

"Oh, oh yes. No taunting at all, Sammy, none," Sam heard the words, but he didn't trust the devilish glint in his father's eyes. "So, now, about those boys…"

_Oh God, this isn't happening. This is not how I imagined this going…_ Sam thought anxiously.

"Robert!" his mother admonished.

"What?" he exclaimed, palms facing up and trying to look innocent.

"Ignore your father, Samuel. You tell us when you're ready," his mom soothed.

_Man up, Sammy. Just get it out there. This can't be any more embarrassing than what they found._ He thought. And then, _Oh, God! What did they find?_ He was a teenage boy, he had needs! Or …wants. Urges? Whatever, he was a boy and her had them, as well as the things needs to help relieve said urges. But he thought he had been so clever and secretive when hiding them. No under the mattress nudie mags or nightstand lotion for this guy. And he was pretty sure he had password protected his computer within an inch of its little techno life. This was going to haunt him, he was sure of it.

"No, it's okay. Uhhh-uh," And, of course, his voice chose now to crack. Excellent. What was Blaine always saying? _Courage_. "I guess you guys already know, or suspect, so there's no point hiding. Um, I'm pretty sure I might be , really, really sure. Positive, even," Sam rambled on, anxiety getting the better of him.

"Honey!" his mom interrupted with a giggle. "It's okay. Relax. We told you, we don't mind. As long as you are happy."

Sam sighed in relief. But still, the curiosity was killing him. He had to ask. "That's- really, that's great. Like, such a super relief. Blaine and Wes and David all told me I was being an idiot when I told them I was afraid to tell you. But… what did you find?" Sam asked, tugging on the ends of his hair in frustration and anxiety.

His parents eyed each other in amusement. _Not good, NOT GOOD!_ His mind tried to imagine every scenario where his parents could have walked in on him, every item is his small wank bank that could have been misplaced or discovered. He was drawing one massive blank. _It's not the Swimsuit Edition of SI, that's chicks. Every straight/bi guy has one of those… What is it?_

Finally, his mom spoke up. This was it.

"Sweetheart, how do I put this delicately…" his mom trailed off thoughtfully. She steepled her fingers in front of her, chewing on her lip and searching for the words.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, woman!" Robert exclaimed. "Son, we heard you fantasizing about that Jake guy! The blue one, from that movie you love so much. And you left up your Google image for shirtless rugby players on your computer and your mother saw it when she checked on you before she turns in for the night, _like she does every night_."

Sam was pretty sure his face was permanently stained red. They were going to have to invent a new color just to classify this level of crimson coloring. Being the new kid at school was going to be hell since he was pretty sure he was a living, breathing, tomato. _The Avatar fantasy, go figure._ Sam had been so sure he was alone on his side of the house. Damn his mom and her ballet feet! It should be illegal to tread so softly.

For a while, the family just sat in silence, each looking at the other expectantly. It was Sam that finally broke the silence. "So…" he began. "I guess I should say thanks. Thanks for being, like, super awesome and understanding. I'm really happy you guys are okay with me going to public school. And, you know, liking guys too. That's like, really… just, awesome." Sam knew he sounded like a broken record, but he felt like his brains had melted out of his head from relief.

"Oh, Sammy. You're welcome, sweetheart. But you should know that you never have to thank us for understanding and accepting you. That's our job, baby," Patricia said as she sniffled. She looked to Robert for confirmation. He smiled lovingly at his only son.

"We love you, Sam. Never forget that," he stated seriously.

Sam held back some tears of his own. Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of overwhelming exhaustion. He didn't think this evening would turn out like this. This good. This embarrassing. This…comforting. He knew his parents rocked. He just never knew how much, until tonight.

"Um, can I be excused?" Sam asked. "I'm... I'm just really tired… I've been so stressed about this." Sam body was filled with this bone deep weariness he had never known. All he wanted to do was go to his room and sleep until noon tomorrow. Luckily, it was Friday, so he could get his wish.

"Of course, darling. Go lay down, I'll bring you some tea later," cooed his mother. "Don't worry about your dishes, I'll get them."

Sam got up from the table and pushed in his chair (his mama done raised him right, mmkay?). He bussed his mom on the cheek and gave his dad a quick squeeze before trudging inside. As Sam climbed the stairs, he heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn't being disowned for liking guys. He wasn't grounded forever for suggesting how to continue his high school education. His parents still loved him.

_Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou._ Sam felt like he could never say those words enough. Reaching the landing, he let out a jaw cracking yawn. _Damn emotions. Who knew telling the truth could be so tiring?_

After a trek down the hallway, he finally came to his room. He pushed open the door decorated with various movies, TV, and comic book art and surveyed his dimly lit room. His eyes settled on his computer and the screen emitting a soft blue glow. _Mutinous bastard! Why do you always freeze and never sleep?_ The _Avatar_ screensaver seemed to mock him. He flicked the switch on the surge protector without shutting the computer down properly. _Ha!_ he thought.

He wasn't upset his parents knew, just embarrassed how they figured it out. _Avatar_ fantasies? His dirty little rugby secret? So much for Blaine's great advice. _Speaking of Blaine…_

Sam searched his darkened room with his for the shape of his iPhone. He didn't need to search for long. As if by his own will, his cell phone lit up and the sounds of the Super Mario theme song started coming from underneath his sheets. Sam hustled to reach his phone in time for the call, but his Xbox 's cords seemed to reach out and wrap around his ankles, preventing movement. After wrestling with his Xbox Devil's Snare, he finally got to his phone.

_5 missed calls_

_8 text messages_

Well. Wasn't he the popular boy? He never should have told Blaine and Co. he was going to tell his parents about McKinley tonight. _I'm really going to miss their mother henning…_ Sam thought with a frown. He figured he wouldn't get any rest until he called them and filled them in on the evening's happenings.

He threw himself on his bed with a groan. He pressed his face into the pillow and took a fortifying breath. He shimmied out of his jeans and peeled off his ratty Pokémon shirt (Pikachu is amazing and you know it!). Sam dials Blaine's number in hopes that Wes and David are with him. He really only wants to have this conversation one more time, well, not really at all, but you get the point.

Blaine picked up on the second ring. "Hullo? Sam?"

"Hey," Sam said. Not his most eloquent opening, but what can he say? Coming out and transferring schools is hard work. "Wes and David there, by any chance?"

"Yeah, hang on. Lemme put it on speaker," Sam could hear Blaine fumbling with his phone on the other end. "Can you hear us?"

"Yeah. So… what's up?" Sam knew he was being willfully obtuse, but he was just _so tired_.

"Don't 'what's up" us Samuel Jordan Evans! Are we going to be seeing your ugly mug come fall semester or are you leaving us for girlier pastures?" Ah Wes, so tactful. There was an audible _slap_ and what may have been David hissing "Behave!" before Blaine became impatient.

"Sam!"

"Alright! I talked to them. They were surprisingly accepting. So no, Wes, I won't be at Dalton come fall. I'll be at McKinley. I'm… I'm just really beat. I don't really wanna talk about this right now. Can I just give you guys a call tomorrow? Sorry…" Sam trailed off. He felt terrible for blowing off his friends, especially when he would be leaving them.

"Hey, now worries," David this time. "We understand. Sleep on it and call us when you wake up, blondie."

"We should meet up. Coffee at The Grind?" suggested Blaine. The Daily Grind was their preferred caffeine dealer, and oh boy, would he need a hit.

"Absolutely. You guys rock," Sam said in relief.

"We know." That Wes.

"G'night, guys!" Sam said. He was met with a round of bedtime wishes before hanging up the phone and plugging it in to charge overnight. After setting it to vibrate, he breathed in deeply and stretched like a cat. He abruptly relaxed and nuzzled into his plush, queen-sized mattress. His phone buzzed next to his head. A text from Blaine.

_Tomorrow we're going shopping._

Sam loved the mall as much as the next guy, but what? How did that make sense? He simply replied with a _?_ and waited for a response. Not even a minute later he got a response.

_Dude, you're going to public school. No more uniforms! :D_

Oh, _shit._

_  
_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it folks! I know this chapter is a bit slow, but I needed to set up Sam's family life, etc. I prefer a slow build to relationships, so anyone who likes this is in for a bit of a ride :P
> 
> Reviews are appreciated and loved!


	2. A New Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am know where I want the story to go and all the major plot points, but I am super open to suggestions, so feel free to hint at anything you may want to see :P Since this is AU, what with the whole men being able to have children, I figured I'd hit the topic of homophobia. Homosexuality is more or less viewed the same as it is in real life; some people are super cool with it while others are bigoted jerkfaces. It sucks, but it's the truth. Sadly, Lima, Ohio is not one of the super awesome accepting places, and it is going to be portrayed much like it is in the show (I need the tension, sorry!).
> 
> Also, I clearly made up some names. Just for clarification, it's Blaine Anderson (original, I know), Wes Ling, and David Williams. And don't get too used to seeing things form Sam's point of view. Kurt will get his fair share of chapters as well
> 
> That being said, on with the show!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Glee! I only take credit for my OC's and AU plot.
> 
> WARNING: This is slash, that means a romantic and eventual sexually relationship between two guys. If this isn't your cup of tea, please, don't read this! Also, swearing, homophobic slurs, and general teenage angst.
> 
> _Thoughts are in italics!_ (unless it's emphasis, I hope I differentiate well enough)

Sam was pretty sure he was dreaming. It was his first day at McKinley, and he was running late. He frantically grabbed his dark green Jansport backpack and shoved in a few blank notebooks, loose leaf paper (college rule ftw!), and some badass Inspector Gadget pencils he found in his old art supply box. Jamming his legs into some beige cargo shorts and a finding an acceptable (read: clean) t-shirt was much more difficult than it had any right to be. His Xbox cord Devil's Snare kept…well, snaring him!

_Curses!_ Sam thought dramatically. _Tonight! I am untangling that tonight!_

Sam raced down the stairs and called out "Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" to his parents before throwing himself in his car. His car purred to life and he was on his way. His heart was racing just about as fast as her was. _Get a grip, Sam!_ he told himself. _You are already going to be the new kid. You don't need to be the new-kid-that-cause-a-six-car-pileup ._

At last, Sam pulled into the nearly-full parking lot of his new high school and skidded to a halt inside the nearest parking spot. He shimmed out the driver's side door as best he could. The person next to him parked like a total idiot! (Okay, maybe it was him. Parking was never his strong point...) Grabbing his backpack out of the trunk, he searched for the office.

And searched. And maybe he searched a little more. He could have asked for directions, but he didn't want to draw more attention to the fact that he was the new kid. Everyone already seemed to know, because they just kept _staring_ at him. He reached up to run his hands through his hair self-consciously.

And encountered… _nothing_. Like, _nothing._ Like, he was bald! Sam looked around for some kind of reflective surface. _Any_ kind of reflective surface. He finally pitched forward and attempts to see his reflection in the aluminum surface of a water fountain. In his haste, he presses the button, temporarily obscuring his view of his maybe-please-god-no bald head. Then there is it.

He _is_ bald. And his shiny head is not even remotely attractive. Sam Evans may be many things, but Vin Diesel he is not.

Panic. Fear. Shame.

And then, there he is, gasping for breath on his bed. _Really?_ he thinks. _The hair dreams again?_ Sam is pretty sure he is developing a complex… or something like that. This all started after Jesse St. Perfect Hair had ragged on his sandy blond locks. Who knew it was going to give him such hair anxiety? Hair phobia? Whatever.

Sam craned his neck to see the illuminated numbers on his digital red alarm clock.

_11:28_

Damn. He was really hoping he would sleep past noon. Or this whole situation stopped being embarrassing. Whichever really. He sighed. Something told him it was going to be a _long_ day. A tentative knock broke him out of his musings.

"Sammy?" his mom called softly, cracking open the door to look inside.

_How does she_ always _know? If I didn't know better, I'd say I was under surveillance. URGH! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts!_ Sam frantically tried to block out the images of his parents being the worst kind of peeping toms.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Oh, good, you're up," she said as she opened the door fully. "How did you sleep, honey?" His mom deftly avoided his Xbox debacle and perched on the side of his bed.

Sam did some quick thinking and decided to leave the nightmare out. He didn't need any excuse for his parents to decide to ship him back to the land of uniforms and blathering professors. "Fine," he lied. "Really good, actually. I think I just worried myself sick, that's all. I feel much better."

He hoped he hadn't overdone it. Acting wasn't his strong point. His role of "Tree Number 2" in his 5th grade play said as much. It took Ms. Myers all over 4 seconds for her to realize the less he spoke, the better (Sam had diarrhea of the mouth when nervous).

_Keep it simple, stupid! Less is always more when it comes to Mom. She knows! She always knows…_

Thankfully, his fib seemed to work. She rubbed his leg affectionately and told him to take his time waking up and then come down for a late breakfast. Sam managed to smile at her in return and watched her sashay out of his room.

_Phew!_ Sam breathed deeply before yawning loudly and stretching from his head to his toes. Hearing the commotion, R2 pranced into the room, demanding to be petted. Sam chuckled to himself and leant over the bed to scoop up his grey French Bulldog.

"Hey, bud," he cooed. "Hey there R2-D2!" R2 looked up at him with his wrinkled face and Sam felt his tension melt away. Animals rocked! They were like, magic, or something. He absent mindedly stroked R2 while thinking about the day ahead of him. Awkward breakfast with the parental units. Coffee with his Warbler friends at The Grind. _Shopping_. For clothes. Shopping for clothes to wear to public high school. This could only end in tears.

Sam hadn't had to really dress himself to be in front of the masses since….kindergarten. _Wow_ , _I am royally screwed_. he thought. _And that's being optimistic_.

When he wasn't in his uniform, he wore an eclectic array of colors and prints. Many a graphic novelty tee laid (semi)neatly folded in his dresser. It was a running joke between, well, anyone that knew Sam, that it was a blessing he had a uniform because he couldn't dress himself to save his life. And his mom worked for Michael Kors. In the words of one David Williams "Burn!".

It wasn't that he was a fashion disaster, he just didn't know how to tell if things….matched. One particular instance comes to mind, actually. While meeting his friends for a late movie he paired a purple t-shirt with an orange hoodie. In a hilarious turn of events, Blaine had actually become so concerned he very nearly convinced Sam's parents to have him tested for color-blindness.

Once it had been established that _yes_ , he could tell the difference between orange and purple and a bajillion other different colors he just had to laugh. His fashion catastrophes were something of legend now. He blamed the fact that he was indecisive, not being able to choose so just wearing it _all_. He thought it was a good idea…

_Any_ way, he had a full day of shopping ahead of him. He needed some breakfast if he was going to make it through this alive. Well, more like without coming Warbler-cide. While Blaine usually kept his teasing in check, Wes and David just seemed feed off of each other's comments and try to out-joke each other. _God, give me strength_. Sam pleaded.

With a final pat to R2, he forced himself from the comfortable nest he had created while he was sleeping. Cold air hit him like a punch in the chest. _Geeze! You'd think my parents grew up in the arctic, not the Bayou._

Even though he had spent the majority of his life in Ohio, he still considered himself a Southern boy. His mama had instilled in him the power of a good "Yes ma'am" and a sugar sweet charm that had worked on many an old lady (and professor, when he had forgotten an assignment or two, but his mom didn't need to know about that…). He deep-seated love for country-fried _anything_ and sweet tea had been a source of amusement for his friends with more refined palates, but he didn't care. They were missing out, as far as he was concerned.

Sam quickly made his way to his en-suite bathroom done up in blues and greens and took the quickest shower he could manage. Now that he was fully awake he was _starving_. Breezing through shaving and washing, he did take time on his hair, making sure it was still there. Okay, it was a dream, but still! The idea of having no hair terrified him!

Stepping out of the shower, he found R2 staring up at him. "What is it, R2?" Sam asked. R2 just cocked his head to the side and pranced away. Sam laughed to himself. That dog never ceased to make him laugh. Originally, he'd wanted some kind of beast, like a mammoth-sized St. Bernard or German Sheppard. His mom quickly nixed that idea, saying she wasn't comfortable with a dog of that size. Sam still thinks she wasn't comfortable with the amount of canine destruction a dog that size could do to her couch.

When he saw this little Frenchie sitting in its pen at the puppy store he immediately had to have it. It looked like Yoda with those big bat ears! But he was totally the wrong color (how awesome would a green dog be!) so R2 it was. His mom immediately named him Louis, like the French king, but he and his dad had shared a look and decided that this could not be. After some quick (and secret) deliberating they settled on R2-D2 and took to a calling him by that at every opportunity. His mom caved and he and his father had shared a celebratory Star Wars marathon (much to his mom's chagrin).

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved green plaid button-down, Sam laced up his black Converse. He picked R2 up and made his way downstairs. And promptly made his way back upstairs. After retrieving his cell phone and hustling downstairs to the kitchen he plopped his dog in front of his food dish and watched him pig out for a moment. With a short bark of laughter he rounded the corned and walked into the kitchen.

And walked back out. _Mom. Dad. Kissing. Kitchen. Ugh._ Sam shivered. He may not be able to act, but he was sure as hell overdramatic. He was quite content thinking he came from the stork, _thank you very much_. That had been a conversation he was pretty sure would scar him for the rest of his life. Especially because his dad was wearing this _smirk_ the whole time. Okay! So he was 11 when this happened, but that's not his fault! He was just… trusting. Wes said gullible, but he didn't think he was _that_ bad.

Finally, he turned back around and cleared his throat. Loudly. His parents broke apart and looked to him. His dad, of course, smirked (he loved making Sam blush), and his mom playfully smacked Robert in the chest.

"Go sit, you great big kid. Let me fix Sam's breakfast," scolded his Patricia.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," replied Robert, still smirking. One day, Sam vowed to be the one smirking at his dad's flustered face.

_Vengeance will be mine_ Sam vowed.

Taking his seat at the small round table they used for breakfast, Sam looked to his mother. He could fend for himself just fine(ish), but his mom's cooking was amazing.

"How does eggs and hash browns and biscuits and gravy sound?" She asked.

How did it sound? Uhhhh, awesome? "Thanks, ma!" Sam gushed before looking at his father. He looked up from the paper and focused on his son.

"So, what are your plans for the day? Hanging out with Blaine and the reprobate duo?"

Sam shook his head and smiled. Wes and David _were_ rather excitable. He composed himself before answering. "Yeah, that's the plan. We're going to meet for coffee and then they want to take me shopping. I'm pretty sure Blaine is convinced I am going to be attacked for my fashion choices at McKinley,"

His mom made and exasperated noise and spun around to face Sam. "I don't know where you get it from! If you would just-"

"No!" both he and his father cut her off. She grumbled and went back to frying hash browns. If she was jabbing the spatula into the pan with a little more force than was necessary, they (wisely) chose not to say anything.

His mother had been trying to give him fashion classes since he was five years old and tired to wear socks with flip-flops. His feet were cold but he loved his new flip-flops with the Red Power Ranger on them. He thought he'd found the perfect solution.

He was wrong.

Sam was brought out his memories by his mom placing his breakfast in front of him. He smiled up at her gratefully. She kissed him on his forehead before placing the breakfast dishes in the sink to rinse then for the dishwasher.

He dug into his breakfast with (well mannered) gusto. If his parents hadn't been there he would have just given R2 a run for his money in the pig out department, but he kept himself in check. For the most part. His dad laughed and pointed to the large sausage gravy stain on his white undershirt.

_Damn_ he thought _now I have to change._ After making quick work of his breakfast, he cleanded his palte in the since and stacked in neatly in the washer.

Sighing, he marched back upstairs to his room to find another suitable shirt. Shedding his plain white undershirt, he looked about his room. His trip down memory lane had made him nostalgic, so he pulled on a Power Rangers shirt he had gotten from David for Christmas and re-buttoned his plaid shirt. He grabbed his keys and wallet and jammed them into his pocket.

Sam hustled back down stairs and scooped up his phone from where it lay on the table. His parents were nowhere to be found. He quickly looked out the window and spotted his mom in the garden (her favorite Saturday pastime). His dad's car was gone, so that meant golf with the guys. Sam shuddered. _Eww, golf._ He couldn't understand his father's fascination with that "sport". Mini-golf rocked, but regular gold. _Blech_.

He dialed Blaine and lazily paced the kitchen while he waited for him to pick up.

"Hey, Sam!" Blaine said cheerfully.

"Hey. We still on for coffee?"

"Indeed we are! Then the mall!" It sounded like Blaine may have already had a few cups of coffee. And if the screaming in the background was any indication, so had Wes and David. "Meet us at The Grind in 20 minutes?"

"Make it 30. I gotta say goodbye to my mom and take R2 for a walk. See you guys in a bit," A chorus of farewells floated over the phone lone before he hung up. As if on cue, R2 trotted into view and looked at Sam expectantly."I know, buddy,"

He grabbed R2's leash from the peg near his bowl and hooked it onto his collar before opening the door and carrying him down the stairs to the grass. R2 could probably do this himself but he had a strange fear of R2 tumbling down the steps and accidentally chocking him on his leash. Crazy? Maybe, but his dog was still alive. So there.

He walked R2 around the house until he reached his mom in the garden. Patricia may have been a fashion forward Creative Director, but when it came to gardening, she meant business. Dressed in a pair of jean overalls and an old, ratty shirt, Patricia Evans was covered in potting soil. Sam chuckled fondly at his mother and called out to her.

"Hey mom, I just wanted to let you know I was definitely going to meet my friends for coffee and stuff. Did you want me to get anything on my way back?" Hey, he already said he was a momma's boy. And a little brown nosing never hurt anyone.

"I don't think so, honey. Go have fun. Just be careful, the radio says it supposed to rain later on in the day. I'm trying to finish this up _tout de suite_ ," Gotta love that Southern accent.

"Alright, ma. Want me to leave R2 out or put him in his crate?" he asked, R2… who was currently covered in very expensive organic potting soil. How had he not noticed that? His mom just laughed and told him to put him on the yard spike near her since seemed to having such a good time.

"Sorry, ma. I didn't realize he was doing that," Sam said bashfully.

"No worries, sugar. He needed a bath anyway. Now, get a move on! You know how David gets when he has to wait," Oh yeah, did he ever. He waved to his mom one last time and jogged to his car. Sam smiled as he neared his baby. Yeah, he was lucky.

Sitting in the driveway was his pride and joy. A yellow Camaro. He was never a big car person, hell, he couldn't tell a Porsche from a Ferrari, but he loved this car. He fell in love with it when he was Transformers and Bumblebee did that awesome morph thing and turned into a new Camaro. He may have said it was "the coolest car EVER" like, six or seven hundred times in front of his parents in hopes that maybe it would subconsciously weave its way in and fill them with this uncontrollable desire to but their favorite (read: only) son a badass car for his birthday.

And they did. Best. Parents. Ever. He gleefully slid into the driver's seat and revved the engine. The sound was like, better than sex. Well, not really, but pretty freakin' close! Now, to The Grind!

Onward!

* * *

He pulled up to The Daily Grind with a smile on his face. He loved this place. Blaine had an irrational hatred of Strabucks and would always grumble when they stopped there for coffee. Finally, Wes and David had stumbled upon this little gem in one of their "outings" (no one asked what happened on these outings, and they sure as hell didn't tell. Sam and Blaine spent a ridiculous amount of time wildly speculating about what it was that occurred on these trips, but they were stumped). Now they had and awesome (and 24 hour!) caffeine distributor _and_ didn't have to listen to Blaine's rants on overpriced milk with coffee flavoring.

It seemed luck was in his side and he managed to get there before his friends. Sam rubbed his hands together and made a bee-line for the register. _That comfy chair is MINE!_ He thought cackled to himself. He reached the cute ginger barista girl named Marie and ordered his usual. A medium blended caramel mocha with extra whipped cream. He didn't care that it contained more calories than most _meals_ , it was friggin' delicious!

Even though it wasn't Starbucks, it was still wildly expensive. He paid for his drink and waited (im)patiently for his drink at the end. A dreadlocked guy with more piercings than face handing him his drink of choice and he gratefully snatched it up and made tracks to _his_ chair. The last two times some….jerk, had totally ninja'd his chair and replaced it with this sorry orange excuse for a seat.

There was a convenient cluster of chairs in the corner of the room that the friends usually occupied. The Grind was a very homey and mismatched place, no two couches or chairs the same. Wes claimed this plain green suede chair that was to squishy for the rest of them while Blaine preferred this fancy wingback affair that was done in pretty burgundy damask (thanks for that one, mom). David liked the overstuffed gray monstrosity that seemed to swallow his lean and lanky frame. He says it makes his back feel better but Sam is pretty sure he loves this chair because there is a patch of velvet missing from one of the arms that looks like a T-rex/Godzilla.

Then there was Sam's chair. Once again, his friends ragged on his color-blindness because this chair was an amazing buttery yellow. It wasn't too soft or too hard and the back of it was asymmetrical, higher one side than on the other, which was perfect from Sam's tendency to lean on the higher side with his feet tucked under him.

And there it was, untaken and unmolested by the unworthy jerkface that could never appreciate _his_ chair's awesomeness. Sam smiled blissfully and wiggled into his chair while watching the front door for his band of merry men. Er, frieds. He meant friends.

_Damn you, late night Mel Brooks marathons! Robin Hood: Men in Tights draws me in every time_.

Staring out the glass front of the store, he saw Blaine's black Mercedes S Class pull into the spot next to his baby followed by the Wes and David is Wes' red Audi Locus. It had taken him forever to remember the make and model of their cars so that he could find his friends in a parking lot. He had gotten lost one too many times…

He was brought out of his musing by the jingle of the door's bell, alerting the workers to the fact that they have some more caffeine zombies to attend to. Marie smiled and got to work on Blaine's drink order without him having to tell her. _Hrmm, he must come here more often than we thought_. He hands her the exact change for the drink and moves on to the pick-up counter. Wes and David take more time. They never order the same thing and are obsessed with mixing any and every flavor to get some of the weirdest combinations he has ever seen. They seem to end their debate and order two regular coffees which is possibly more shocking than anything Sam could have predicted.

Blaine makes his way over first, having already received his customary medium drip. He settles in his wingback and smiles at Sam.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hullo," Sam replies. They both knowingly glace at Wes and David, who appear to regret their decision of ordering a predictable coffee. Now, they are currently working on concocting some kind of devil's brew while simultaneously flirting with poor Marie. She was being a good sport, laughing and suggesting drink combinations while eyeing Wes appreciatively.

_Hrmm, maybe Wes_ isn't _crazy. Go figure._ Marie copied their orders on cups while Wes and David shared a conspiratorial wink. _Lucky bastard_. The two of them loved to point out that Sam had absolutely _no_ game. His mom said he was a late bloomer, but he just hadn't told her about all the *ahem* blooming he had done. He would just have to hold out hope that someone would find his quirks totally hot. Blaine just told him to stop listening to the hormone twins before he developed ANOTHER complex. (His hair is just fine! *sniff sniff*)

Blaine caught him frowning slightly and guessed what was up. "Hey, don't worry about them. They tease you but you know it's out of love. Don't let their Casanova ways get you down. You know if you were just looking to get laid you have a ton of game. As a guy that can and does appreciate the male form, you're totally hot. I just like to think you and I have a little more class. Or so I tell myself so I don't cry myself to sleep at night," Blaine finished teasingly.

It was nice hearing Blaine thought he was hot. He had once harbored a MASSIVE, Louisiana sized crush on his curly haired friend and it almost killed their friendship. They were fourteen and Sam had never thought he could be bisexual, so when these feels came up he pulled away from his friend. His parents had always been very accepting and had told him love was love and that was all that mattered. But this freaked him out. He avoided hanging out with him and purposefully stayed after classes they shared to ask their professors nonsense questions.

His grades went up but his friendship went down. Finally, Blaine convinced (read: lied to) his parents to drop him off at Sam's unannounced for a sleep-over and demanded to know what he did wrong. Blaine was genuinely upset over it, tears swimming in his eyes. Sam felt like he'd kicked a very cute, very curly puppy. He stuttered out a few syllables before he got a serious case of the _crazy_ and lurched forward.

He grabbed by the collar of his sweater and yanked him forward. He pressed their lips together quickly and then came to his senses. _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought frantically. As he went to pull away, Blaine's arms came around him and he tentatively returned the gesture of affection.

Sam was _floored_. Blaine was _kissing him back._ Not freaking out. Not punching him into a bloody pulp. The boys continued to share chaste kisses for a few minutes before separating and staring into each other's eyes. Suddenly, one of them giggled and that was all she wrote.

The two boys collapsed into a pile of hysterical, adolescent boy and laughed until their sides hurt. Once they had finally calmed down, they leaned against his raised be frame and looked at each other.

"So, that's why you've been avoiding me?" He asked gently.

"Uh, yeah. I just, I dunno, dude. It just freaked me out. I thought you'd be upset…" he trailed off uncertainly.

Blaine turned toward him and laid his hand against Sam's knee. Blaine took a deep breath and looked Sam in the eye. "Sam," he began. "Sam, I'm gay. I kind always felt different but I've been sure since 8th grade. I just… didn't know how to tell anyone. You don't have to worry with me."

_Wow. Gay._ Is that what he was? Sam thought hard. No. Definitely not. He liked girls, right? But, he liked boys too. Was being bi real? He always thought that people just said they were bi because they were… well, sluts. Like Mary Pinkham and Joey Munoz.

Sam let out a shuddery breath. "I-I'm not," he choked out. Blaine looked… hurt. "I… just. I don't _just_ like boys. I like girls too. I-I guess I'm bi. I just… I don't want people to think I'm like all those kids that got caught messing around in the locker room at the other middle school. I'm not!" he finished defensively.

Sensing Sam's distress, Blaine pulled him in close. "Hey," he soothed. "Hey. You're not. I know all those kids said they were bi, but I think they were just trying to get attention. Being bi is okay. But I understand why you didn't wanna tell anyone. I don't really wanna tell anyone else either. Not right now. So, for now, secret?" Blaine held out his pinky with a silly grin on his face. Same returned it as best he could and linked pinkes with him.

"Secret," he said. "Now, let's play Zelda."

And that was that. After that kiss, the decided they were much better friends. After a while, Blaine came out, Sam didn't. He eventually told Wes and David, and now his parents, but sometimes he felt like being bi was a joke to a lot of people. For now, he would just be that nerdy kid with the big lips.

Sam was jolted back to reality by Wes and David plopping into their chairs. Wes proudly displayed the fact that Marie had written her number on his cup and kept sneaking looks at her. He held his fist out to Sam for the obligatory bro-fist-bump.

"Ask and ye shall receive, young padawan," Wes chimed smugly. Sam bumped fists with him and shook his head.

"Nice, man. But, what about Meg?" Meg was Wes' on-again-off-again girlfriend of almost 2 years.

"We're so done. She was going all stalker on me. Wanted me to come to her parents ski lodge for a few weeks this summer. She kept hinting that is would be a great place for me to _ask_ her something. No way, man. No way," he finished. Well, maybe it would last this time. Probably not.

"So, McKinley?" David asked.

"McKinley," Sam said. "It was surprising easy to convince my parents. However, I also ended up telling them I was bi." His words had the desired effect. It was strangely satisfying to watch all three of his friends snort their coffee. Sam smiled. _Evans: 1, Warblers: 0_

"Are you alright?" Blaine immediate asked, being the more sensitive of his friends.

"Yeah, fine. Turns out they knew…" and Sam recounted the event of last evening. Blaine listened sympathetically and chuckled at the appropriate moments with Wes and David howled in laughter at his mortification. After he finished he took a long sip of his blended coffee and grimaced. _Watery, blech_.

"I told you so," Blaine said, finally.

"Thank you for you kind words of encouragement, Blaine. I love you too," Sam drawled. This sent his three friends into hysterics. He gave in a laughed with them. It _was_ pretty funny.

Suddenly, Blaine grinned like the cat that got the canary. This did not bode well for him. "So," Blaine began. "Mall?"

"Aaaaaan, that's our cue!" exclaimed David. "Samuel, lovely to see you. Blaine can handle making sure your outfits bring all the boys to the yard. Ciao!" Wes headlock-hugged him on their mad dash for the door. Meanwhile, Blaine looked miffed.

"Honestly!" Blaine growled. "I'm not that bad! Just because they hate shopping doesn't make my enjoyment girly. Or terrifying!" Sam thought it would be in his best interest to _keep his mouth shut_. This was Blaine, his friend, he wouldn't make him look like an idiot.

"Come on," Blaine urged. "Let's go get this taken care of and then we can hang out _without_ the wonder boys."

They picked up their empty cups (and Wes' and David's too. Pigs), and tossed them in the trash on their way out the door. After climbing into their respective cars, Sam followed Blaine's gleaming black car the short distance to the mall. Pulling into a spot near the main entrance, Sam walked over to Blaine.

"Don't worry, you're gonna look great," he assured. Sam wasn't so sure. Blaine's style was vastly different from his own. Blaine said refined, Sam said _old_. He gestured for Blaine to lead the way.

Following after Bliane, Sam stared at the giant glass doors that marked the entrance to the Westerville Shopping Center.

_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa.
> 
> What the hell happened? I know I promised the mall scene in this chapter, but this just ran away from me. I ended up getting hit with a major plot bunny and had to go with it (Sam/Blaine). Don't worry, they are sooo over. Sam should get one more chapter before I switch to Kurt's point of view. _This_ one will definitely be the mall trip and maybe a bit more back story of his fling with Jesse St. James.
> 
> Sorry about the hair fixation, I just love the idea of Sam being all Scott Pilgrim about his hair, especially since I am sooo going to go with the lemon juice idea :D Love it! I did that one summer, but I am a ginger... it didn't work out as well as I'd hoped.
> 
> Any comments would make my day! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter <3


	3. Dream Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouragement! I am so glad that you all like it. I do have a quick question. Are the chapters too long? Too short? What do you think? I try not to let myself become monotonous or wordy but I sometimes lose track.
> 
> Also, I am my own beta, so please forgive any errors! I go back and try to catch them but I don't always manage. I humbly beg your forgiveness for any and all errors :P
> 
> In this chapter, Sam and Blaine go shopping and have a heart to heart that will definitely affect the rest of the story. And perhaps a little smut for your patience? The next chapter is going to be from Kurt's point of view so we can get a feel for the atmosphere at McKinley and get into the meat of this fic.
> 
> That being said, let's get this show on the road!
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I have no claim to the wonder that is Glee. I own nothing!
> 
> WARNINGS: This will depict a romantic relationship between two teenage boys. Please, if you don't like this, don't read it! There may be some swearing, homophobic slurs and other consequences of being a teenager.
> 
> Enjoy!

This was it. This was how it all ended. In the middle of the Hollister while being slowly suffocated by the overpowering stench of expensive men's cologne. Blaine had no sympathy for his blight; he seemed to be immune to their noxious fumes. He could feel his will to live slowly slipping away.

And this was only the first store. Some kind of trendy, thumping Euro-beat was the soundtrack to his torment. Blaine remained oblivious to his displeasure while piling his arms full of various items for him to try on. He had no idea sweaters came in so many varieties. And just _how_ skinny were skinny jeans Blaine seemed to be blathering on about?

It wasn't that he didn't like shopping. He did! He just hated trying things on. Or shopping for important things, and picking out clothes for his first day at McKinley was molto importante. There was nothing comforting or familiar in the first store Blaine had led him to. From the strange music to the unusually dark lighting, he felt really out of his depth. There wasn't a single graphic tee to be found, much to his chagrin.

Blaine made his way back to same with another armload of semi-preppy garb. Sam's anxiety must have been written clearly on his face because Blaine laughed and said "Chill, dude. You look like a man sentenced to the gallows. It's all mostly the same thing, just different sizes. Being gay doesn't imbue you with the mystical power to look at a guy and know his inseam,"

Sam deflated with relief. Maybe he should have gone with a decaf. This public school thing was making him seriously high strung. The fact of the matter was he didn't really know hoe kids that weren't raised in the circles his family ran in acted. Would he be able to relate to them? It seemed like the most obvious way for him to stick out was to be a dressed like a fool because he didn't know any better.

Blaine pushed him into a strangely spacious dressing room with orders to show him everything (not like that, perverts!). Stripping off, he decided to play it safe with a pair of cargo shorts and a green and white striped polo. He looked at himself in the mirror. _Meh_.

Sam opened the door to show Blaine. Who was nowhere to be found? _What the…_

Sam heard what sounded like Blaine's voice coming from just outside the dressing room. Tip toeing closer to the opening, he peered around the corner. Yeah, that was Blaine… chatting up one of the sales guys. A tall, muscular, clearly-into-guys-that-look-like-Blaine guy. _Oh… I guess I'll just-_ but as Sam attempted to beat a hasty retreat, the sales guy sprayed Blaine's neck with cologne in a not-so-professional way (seriously, did he _need_ to be that close).

_SNEEZE ATTACK!_ Sam thought inanely.

Not only did he sneeze, breaking the moment by alert the two canoodlers to his presence, but he managed to hit his forehead on the doorjamb.

_ACH-THUNK!_

They turned toward the commotion, only to spot a furiously blushing Sam sheepishly rubbing his head. Blaine walked over to him swiftly in order to assess the damage. He pushed back Sam's hair to inspect the bump while whispering "bless you" fondly.

Sam looked past Blaine and noticed the salesman had vanished. "…sorry if I just cockblocked you," Sam said sourly.

Blaine laughed good-naturedly. "No worries. He was all flash and no substance. This is more important,"

Sam's irritation melted away instantly. Blaine was a true friend.

"Now go take this shirt off. You look like you belong on some tacky MTV reality show,"

That Blaine.

* * *

Four hours and countless shopping bags later, Sam and Blaine throw themselves into chairs at the food court. Blaine looked tired yet pleased while Sam just looked haggard. This public school thing might be bad for his health if his currently mental state was any indication.

Blaine had been a saint, ushering Sam from store to store and putting up with his near-constant griping. Despite all this, they had managed to adequately outfit Sam for his new life beginning this August. He owed Blaine big-time. Like, a massive, life-altering favor. Or getting him some hot public school ass. Whichever came first. (Hey, underneath his dapper exterior he was a simple man, with simple needs.)

"So, food?" questioned Blaine.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus, yes," Sam agreed. "Just let me call my mom and let her know. I never really gave her a time for when I would be coming home. Actually, I'm kinda shocked she hasn't called ten thousand times." Blaine nodded in response while calling his own parents.

Sam scrolled though his contacts and pressed his mom's smiling face to place the call. Hi mom answered immediately.

"Hey, sweetheart," she chimed.

"Hey, Mothership. I just wanted to check in since I left kinda quickly this morning. Well, afternoon," he corrected.

"Thanks for checking in, honey. How are things going?"

"Fine, fine. Blaine and I finished shopping but we were thinking of getting something to eat if that's cool…"

"Sure thing. Thanks for letting me know before dinner, sweet. Since it's just going to be your father and I, I think we'll head out. Don't forget to lock up if we aren't home by the time you go to bed. Blaine can stay over if he'd like," she finished with a smile in her voice. Blaine was a common fixture in the Evan's household.

"Thanks, Mom. Love you,"

"Love you too."

Sam ended his call and looked to Blaine. "All set?"

Blaine nodded. "We're all set for dinner, but I'm going to have to take a rain check for our Saturday movie/video game marathon. My little sister is going to be in a school play and really wants me to help her practice. And I get the feeling I am going to be bribed into making her a costume," Blaine said apologetically.

"Hey, no worries. Family first. What play?"

"The Wizard of Oz. She's gonna be Dorothy," he answered with no small amount of pride. Sometimes the relationship Blaine had with his little sister made him wish he had a sibling. Sometimes. He was glad he didn't have a small human running around his room coloring on his most prized possession. Sam had had to attend a Viking-style guitar/record/action figure/comic book funeral one too many times.

"Psh, I'll just mention it to my mom and she'll have a costume by midnight. You know how she feels about that movie," And so did Sam. His mom had forced him to Toto for Halloween until he was 10.

"I'll have to suck up to your mom. The play isn't for a month, so she's have some time,"

"Please, somedays I think she likes you more, what with your fuzzy fabrics and old man sweaters," Sam teased.

"It's cashmere!" Blaine exclaimed, affronted.

Sam just smiled and kept his Queer Eye comparisons to himself.

* * *

After a quick squabble in the parking lot and a brief crisis getting all of Sam's purchases in his Camaro, Blaine and Sam made their way to Sam's favorite diner.

Hattie's.

Miss Alma Grace Daniels was the proprietor of this fine establishment. She was an elderly woman with fine wrinkles on her mocha colored skin and a sultry voice that could make statues melt. She built Hattie's from the ground up with late sister, Hattie that died right before the opening. Though it may be simple country cooking, it was the finest, cleanest, most comforting place to eat in Ohio. At least that's what the patrons thought.

Hattie's looked like it was picked up from the Deep South a plopped right down in Ohio in some sort of freak tornado accident. Sam's mom would have called the décor "shabby chic". Antique white paint with hints of colors bleached by the sun spanned the entire restaurant. With indoor and outdoor seating, Sam could eat here any day, anytime.

His friends had been skeptical the day he dragged them to Hattie's for the first time, but Miss Alma had welcomed them like her own and had them wrapped around her little finger faster than you could say "sweet tea". Since that day, Hattie's was their go-to grub joint.

Sam and Blaine practically skipped to the entrance and waited to be seated. Miss Alma Grace looked up from where she was making a vat of sweet tea and smiled at the two rambunctious boys.

"I'll be with you directly, babies," she crooned. After setting the tea to brew she came around the counter and grabbed two menus from their slat near the opening. "In or out?"

"Out," they said simultaneously.

Miss Alma smiled and led then to a whitewash picnic bench being underneath the shade of a giant Oak tree. Sam and Blaine took their seats on opposites sides of the table and smiled up at the kind old woman. She looked to Sam and smiled sweetly.

"A sweet tea and…?" she trailed off, looking at Blaine in question.

"Sweet tea," he supplied.

"Bless your country heart."

The two friends opened their menus and began the arduous process of trying to choose what to eat for dinner. They perused the menu in companionable silence, mouth watering at the prospect of fresh biscuits and homemade preserves. Miss Alma returned with their drink, served in mason jars, as they made their decisions.

God, Sam loved this place.

"Y'all need a second?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Sam said with a smile. "We're ready."

Miss Alma go out her pad and pen."What'll it be?"

"I'll have the country-fried steak with the sausage gravy and redskin mashed potatoes, please." Sam said, praying he wasn't drooling all over her menu.

"And I'll have the pork chops with applesauce. Green beans, please," answered Blaine.

"Comin' right up!" she said with a saucy wink.

As she walked away from the table, Blaine leaned across the table. Sam learned forward, curious wha this friend could have to say that he didn't want her to hear.

"I'd totally go straight for her."

Sam cracked. He lost himself in raucous laughter and couldn't stop until he was crying with laughter, clutching his sides in pain. _God, I needed that_.

"Seriously. I love that woman," Blaine said with a smile while Sam could only shake his head in exasperation.

Over dinner, the discussed everything and nothing, clearly ignoring the elephant in the room. Finally, dessert came and Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked over his peach cobbler.

Blaine pretended not to understand for all of two seconds. Eventually, he sighed and looked at Sam with sad eyes. "I'm not mad," he said. "Really, I'm not. I'm-I'm jealous."

_Jealous? What?_

"Why? I don't…understand." Sam was confused. Jealous? Blaine? Blaine remained silent. Reaching over the table, Sam squeezed his friends hand in reassurance.

"I want to be away from all this stiff-upper-lip-never-show-your-true-colors business. I love Wes and David, but it always kind of been me and you, and then them, and then all of us together. I hate our uniforms and how the Warblers council is so uptight and the fact that having an opinion in Dalton is like having leprosy. I hate the my parents don't seem to notice that just because I'm not being bullied doesn't meant that I'm happy. I just… ugh! I don't know…" Blaine trailed off, tears making their way down his handsome face.

Sam was speechless. _How have I missed this? Have I really been so preoccupied with my own cares that I missed the fact that my best friend is miserable?_

"So-so come with me. Then neither of us will have to be alone and you can get away from all that! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I want to go so badly, I even thought about it for a while," Blaine croaked. "But Elaine needs me. Mom and Dad are never there. And even though Nina is the best nanny ever, I just don't feel right leaving her."

Blaine and Sam stared at each other for a long minute before Sam finally said "I'm sorry."

Blaine just shrugged self-consciously before mopping at his face with a spare napkin. "Don't worry about it. It's just something I have to figure out."

Miss Alma chose that moment to return with their checks. She took a look at Blaine before brushing his hair back and patting his check in a motherly way. She walked away without a word to take care of a young couple sharing an ice cream sundae.

Blaine laughed away his tears while they settled their bills (and left a generous tip). They walked to their cars in silence. _Why do things feel so awkward right now? How am I supposed to make this better? Blaine has always been the comforting one._ Finally, Sam just pulled Blaine into a tight hug.

Blaine sobbed brokenly clutched him desperately. The tension was broken but Sam still felt guilty. Eventually, they separated and Blaine smiled at him gratefully.

"Sorry 'bout that," Blaine whispered.

Sam cut him off before he could continue. "Don't apologize. You've seen me cry plenty of times. We'll figure something out. Promise. Now, go home to your adorable sister. She's off to see the Wizard, or so I hear."

His comment had the desired effect, he watched as his friend's eyes cleared and he laughed clear and loud. "Bye, Sam. See you later."

Sam leaned against the hood of his baby, yellow paint gleaming in the setting sun. Blaine waved one last time before pulling onto the road and making his way back to Elaine and the yellow brick road.

* * *

Sam pulled into his drive way and discovered his parents were out, as his mother had hinted. Sam shook his head fondly. He hoped he would one day have what his parents had. Sure, they fought, but they were still just as crazy about each other as they were in high school.

Sam parked his Camaro and jogged up the stairs to his house. He separated his house key and let himself into his house. He'd get the packages later, right now he just needed to collapse on the couch.

Right after he took R2-D2 out. His Frenchie did not look pleased. Quickly running down the stairs with R2 he set him on the grass and took him for a short jog. Even though Sam was tired, the physical activity felt good. Soon, R2 refused to move and had to be carried back to the house before Sam had even broken a sweat.

He carried R2 back to the house before deciding that he should spend some time in the gym. His friends teased him about his fondness for exercise, but Sam found that nothing helped clear his head and better than working up a good sweat. Having made his decision, Sam ran upstairs and changed into a pair of black basketball shorts and an oversized Dalton Academy gym shirt. Lacing up his sneakers, he made his way to the gym.

Sam was grateful that his parents were as active as he was. Over the years, they had amassed quite the collection of exercise equipment. His father was a creature of habit, always using his Bowflex, while his mother changed exercises as often as she changed clothes. While Sam usually did weight training, he was in the mood for some cardio.

Clicking on the radio, Sam pressed the play button while starting up the treadmill. The sounds of Lady GaGa's new single blasted through the air. Sam started running.

How was he going to fix things for Blaine? His friend had always been there for him, now it was his turn. This was definitely a question for his mom. As much as Sam knew Blaine would want to keep his outburst between them, Sam knew that he had no other choice.

It wasn't that Blaine's parents didn't love him and Elaine. They definitely did. They just showed it with money. While Blaine loved his Mercedes, he would give it up in a heartbeat if it meant that his parents would show up to a performance. Workaholics through and through, family always seemed to come second.

Sam put Blaine out of his mind. He needed to wind down. Concentrating on the thumping beat of the music, Sam ran and ran and ran, only stopping when he was drenched with sweat and his muscles quivered with exhaustion. Quickly pressing "cool down" Sam allowed himself to think again.

Knowing his parents, they would be out _very_ late, if they came home at all. His parents most likely drove into Columbus for the evening, meaning he had the house all to himself. Well, him and R2. Normally, Sam would take this opportunity and have one serious nerdfest on the big screen in the living room, but he really just wanted to relax in his room. Maybe he could finally work out the death knos in his game systems…

Not likely.

Sam left the gym and trudged up to his room. Wrinkling his nose at the sticky feeling of his sweaty clothes, he quickly peeled off his gym clothes and stepped into his glass shower. Closing the door, he turned the water as hot as he could stand.

Sam stood under the pounding of the water for a long time, letting the hot water ease the tension is his sore muscles. Sam left his hair trickle water down his face while trying to talk himself into washing his hair.

Despite his exhaustion, his body had other ideas. His post-work out bliss was traveling farther south than Sam had anticipated. He felt the familiar tingle of arousal between his legs before huffing in aggravation. Sometimes, being a teenage boy was so inconvenient. Right now, all he wanted to do was finish his shower, maybe grab his bags from the car, and then collapse on his bed with his trusty dog and watch something mindless on tv. His body had different ideas.

_Later,_ he promised his body _later. I don't have the energy for you right now._

Mercifully, his body seemed to listen. The familiar stabs of arousal dulled to a dull throb before disappearing completely. Sam smiled. _See? Teenage boys can_ so _control their hormones_ he thought smugly. Finally, he mustered up enough energy to lather his hair with some fruity shampoo his mom has picked up. Rinsing the soap from his dark blond tresses, Sam sighed and turned off the shower.

Opening the shower door was like being doused with cold water. Reaching for his towel, Sam wrapped the green fabric around his waist before slipping into a pair of old, gray pajama pants. He walked downstairs as he toweled the excess water from his hair, draping the towel around his neck.

Sam sighed. He really _should_ get his bags from the car. They were all packed in there so tightly, and his mom would get mad if he knew he let his clothes sit and get wrinkled overnight. Even though he was going to wash them before he wore them. He didn't say it made sense, only that the Mothership would be able to tell he was lying about it and get miffed.

He wasn't looking forward to this.

* * *

7 trips and one enraged dog later, Sam had all his bags in his room. To say he was annoyed was putting it lightly. Somehow, R2 managed to slip by him and launch himself into a pile of left over potting soil. After chasing around R2, Sam finally managed to capture him and just placed him in the oversized Macy's bag and carried him up the steps. Sure his new jacket was all dirty (well, soil-y), but he had to wash it anyway.

He gave R2 a quick wash in the sink before putting him in his crate. Normally, they let him have the run of the house, but when he was naughty, _crate_. This qualified as one of those times. With one last look back at a whimpering R2, Sam gathered his wits about. _Must stay strong. Must not give in to the face._

Arriving back at his room, Sam collapsed in bed much in the same fashion as he had the night before. He wriggled around on the sheets like a happy puppy, savoring the soft feel of the cotton on his hot skin (chasing droids is hard work!). Sam smiled to himself at his own cleverness.

Then, his body seemed to remember his promise. _Is it later yet?_ it seemed to ask. Sam felt those tingles and knew there was no denying it this time. Sam took a deep breath and figured he may as well give in. It's not like he didn't enjoy it.

Sam rolled onto his back and ran his hand lazily down his defined chest. He took pride in his body, the perfect balance of muscular and not. His friends (Blaine) said that he had a hot body, the kind people dreamed about when they were occupied s he was about to be. Sam let his mind wander to _his_ ideal body type.

_Guy or girl this time?_

Sam thought back to Blaine flirting with the sales guy and decided to do a little boy scouting of his own. While one hand stroked up and down his chest, the other came up to play with his brown nipples. In his mind, he imagines a guy that was pale where he was tan. Maybe it was because he had a naturally olive skin tone, but he always found himself attracted to those with a milky complexion.

Next, hair. Color wasn't really important, it was all about the texture. Baby fine and straight but super thick. Long? No, short. Maybe with a delicate bang to frame large, soulful eyes. With killer lashes. _Mmm._ An upturned nose to lead to soft, kissable lips. His dream guy was starting to take shape.

He needed to have a cute laugh. Not too loud, but a proper laugh, sweet and light. His fantasy smiled at him. San groaned softly, dragging his trimmed fingernails over his heated flesh. Sure enough, he had gone from half-hard to steel in a matter of minutes. Even his most comfortable pj pants were beginning to get a little… restricting.

Sam trailed his hands down his body until they reached the soft fabric of his pajamas. He gently rubbed himself through the thin material once, twice, creating the most delicious friction. He slid his thumbs under the waistband and eased them off his gently rocking hips. Using his feet to help remove his pants, Sam finally kicks them off and they fall off the edge of the bed.

Fully naked and aroused with nothing in the way of his pleasure, Sam falls back into his fantasy. Where was he? Or, right, his voice. His laugh was important, but right now, Sam was more interested in his moans. Sam liked a nice, clear voice. High pitched for a guy, but without sounding… queeny. He would sigh and moan breathily as Sam kissed down his slender neck, perhaps marking the pale skin with a love bite or two.

Sam tickled his fingers down his throat before settling once again on his nipples, pulling a bit more roughly than before. _Easy_ he told himself _take it slow. You have all night_. Back to mystery man. Sam thought about his body. Thin, but not waifish. He liked a guy that was slim but he wasn't into skeletons. Soft, almost feminine curves would greet his as he stripped his lover of his shirt. Sam's mouth watered at the thought of lavishing affection to those pale pink disks on his chest.

Sam finally gave up teasing himself and reached for the art of him that was demanding his immediate attention. He grasped his manhood in one had while the other continued to roam his chest. He slowly stroked up the shaft, taking time to pay attention to the sensitive head. Sam bit his lip before bringing his had back up and licking his palm and returning it to his throbbing member.

He imagined it was _his_ hand, delicate and yet masculine, gripping his shaft at the base before slowly twisting as he smoothed up his painfully erect cock. "Sam," he breathed. "Sam." He arched his back as his phantom lover worked him into a sexual frenzy. The urge to come was getting stronger and stronger and it was getting harder to think around the haze of his arousal.

Sam imagined his fantasy lover shifting around on the bed, curling his shapely legs underneath him while looking at Sam's flushed face. Sam would cup reach up and cup his face tenderly before drawing him into a passionate kiss. Sam would be able to kiss him for days and never get tired of it. Gently, he would pull him forward and they would lie against each other, feeling the entire length of each other's overheated bodies.

Sam rolled onto his side facing the wall, stroking his shaft more firmly while moving his other hand to gently knead his sac, imagining his dream lover pinned between the cool wall and his heated body. His lover would throw his head back, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to nibble and suck on his perfect throat.

His hands were all over his lover, touching, teasing, until finally settling on the soft swell of his buttocks. His lover would whimper sweetly as Sam pulled him impossibly closer so they could thrust against each other. His phantom partner mimics his actions, exploring the muscular plane of his back before grasping his firm behind.

They thrust against each other with a renewed passion, excitement getting the better of them. It's so close, their release is just bubbling under the surface, waiting for that trigger to send it boiling over. His lover pulls Sam's head down, but instead of seeking his lips, his lover goes further until finding the sensitive curve of an ear.

Sam gasps and thrusts into his hand faster. Why did he want to delay this earlier? Craziness. Back to the hot stuff. After laving his ear with attention, his ghostly lover gently nibbles on his earlobe, causing Sam to scrabble for purchase against his backside, accidentally stroking across into the cleft. His lover keens and he feels his sticky release spurt between them.

His lover's orgasm triggers his own, causing him to thrust against his love while mouthing defined collarbones. They hold each other as they come down from their high, shivering with mutual pleasure. Then that laugh will sound before he smiles at him and runs his fingers through Sam's long hair, stroking softly as the pair falls asleep.

Sam takes a shuddery breath. _Wow. That was so intense. It's never been like that before…_ Sam thinks as he reaches for a tissue to clean up the mess. He crumples up the tissues and lazily tosses it in the trash can by his bed. He picks up his phone and arms the house with this nifty little program his dad had bought. Sam plugs it in to charge for the night before slipping his pants back on (his mom doesn't need to see him in all his glory should they come home early).

Sam was still conflicted about a lot of things, but of one thing he was certain:

Best. Wank. EVER.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. *blushes* Well. What did you think? I am super nervous about this. That was the first time I have ever written any kind of smut. I hope I wasn't too explicit/too vague.
> 
> Please please please let me know how I did.
> 
>  _Any_ way, how do you guys feel about Blaine getting a little something-something later on in the story? I already have an idea I got while writing about him and the Hollister guy, but if you guys really don't want to see it I suppose I could just post it elsewhere.
> 
> Hope you like it! 3


	4. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I was so worried about the smut in that last chapter, but I am glad that you all seemed to *ahem* enjoy it :P
> 
> This chapter is going to be a change of pace. The last three chapters have been from Sam's point of view, and now we will see a little of Kurt's point of view. This chapter may be a little shorter than the preceding ones since summer is in full swing and I would hate to bore you with mundane details. We shall see.
> 
> As always, my dears, reviews are loved and appreciated. Perhaps I'll find it in my heart to give Kurt a little lovin' in the chapter ^_~ Also, I apologize for the car porn in this fic. I am in love with a show on BBC called Top Gear and have seen this as a perfect outlet for my newfound appreciation for cars. Kurt is fangirling for me :P
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing but my own cracked out AU concepts.
> 
> WARNINGS: Okay, if you've read this far, you know the drill. Boy love, language, angst, small-town mentality, etc.

Kurt was officially _so_ over summer break. Gone were the days of him and Mercedes gabbing about how fun Summer Vacation was going to be. It has lost its excitement and the right to be capitalized. Here he say, two weeks into June, reminiscing about being tossed into a dumpster.

Okay, so he wasn't _that_ far gone, but at least it had made life interesting. Kurt went through his mental list of suitable companions. Mercedes; in Florida with her family. Tina; Asian Camp (Kurt thought she was making this up back after a quick Google search he had to reform his opinion). Finn; off being freakishly tall with his dwarf girlfriend. Quinn; _Church Camp_ (le eww). Everyone else form Glee wasn't even worth considering.

So there he was, 7:32 in the morning on a Wednesday, sitting at his kitchen table, staring forlornly at the slowly percolating coffee pot in his navy blue silk dressing gown. Kurt heaved a sigh while propping his head up on his hand, waiting for his father to follow his nose and enter the kitchen.

The one good thing about the lack of friends to fill his social calendar was all the time he got to spend with his dad. Burt Hummel was everything a gay kid could ask for and more. Accepting, understanding, patient, free with his credit card… Seriously, Kurt knew he was lucky. Tons of kids came out to their families and were shunned or worse. His dad not only accepted and supported him, he celebrated Kurt's differences.

Kurt knew being a single parent to the most arguably gay boy in Ohio hadn't been an easy task, but his dad had sat through countless tea parties and musicals, let him dress in a style he wished, and, most importantly, loved him no matter how "different" he may have seemed to others. His mom's passing had been hard, but his father had been there for him, every step of the way.

Predictably, Burt shuffled into the kitchen in his old, ratty pajamas and ancient brown bathrobe. "Mrphf," he grumbled.

Kurt smiled fondly and gestured for his father to take a seat. As his father had taken care of him, Kurt took care of his father. Kurt knew he was a bit more feminine than the general populous of Lima, Ohio was comfortable, but Kurt relished this fact. When his mother was alive, Kurt spent hours at her knee in the kitchen, learned to shop like a pro, and danced his heart out to old classics. Doing these things made him feel closer to her, so they rest of Ohio could shut their unfabulous mouths.

Kurt fell into the role of caretaker immediately, pouring his father his customary cup of sweetened milk with a splash of coffee into his favorite mug (a #1 DAD mug Kurt had made in elementary school). Handing his father the cup, Kurt opened the fridge and got out all the things he would need to make Greek omelets and hashbrowns. While Kurt chopped, diced, mixed and fried, Burt Hummel slowly became aware of the world around him.

Kurt was waiting up for him. Again. It was the third time in as many days and he was starting to worry. He may not be a smart man, but he knew when something was wrong with his boy, his Bambi. Those damn eyes, so like his mother's, pulled at Burt's heartstrings.

Burt was pulled out of his deep thoughts by Kurt plopping down a full plate of breakfast in front of the hungry mechanic. Burt smiled gratefully and dug in while Kurt daintily ate his smaller portion. Burt paused in his enthusiastic inhalation and looked to his son.

"So, Kurt, what are you up to today?" he asked.

Kurt wiped his mouth with a napkin before turning to face his father more fully. "I don't know, probably rearrange my room. My moisturizer collection is also getting pretty messy, so maybe a little spring cleaning. Well, summer cleaning, I guess," he said without enthusiasm.

"Wanna come into the shop? You know we could always use the extra set of hands. Paid time, of course," Burt enticed. He didn't like the idea of Kurt sitting alone in the house so much. So, now instead of worrying Kurt would set fire to the house, he had to worry about Kurt getting bored and redecorating the house or shopping online for Burt was unaware they needed. Like throw rugs. And ceramic pitchers.

And for all Kurt's supposed feminine wiles, Burt knew he had a real weakness for cars. When Kurt was younger, he used to worry about Kurt getting some girl pregnant; now he worried that his son would run off with some guy that had a nice car. He saw the way Kurt was eyeing up the gentleman with the Jaguar last week when he had dropped off some lunch for him and the guys. Burt blamed himself for this fascination Kurt had. After Elizabeth died, Burt took his slender son to the shop to keep him close.

Burt looked at Kurt, seeing indecision warring with enthusiasm on his son's fair face. He'd have to pull out the big guns. "There's a Lamborghini Gallardo looking for the works. Some rich as hell S.O.B. was driving through this town and drove through a field. The undercarriage is a mess, but the body is still perfection,"

Kurt fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. Kurt liked to think he was mature for his age, but Burt still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He smiled into his coffee and Kurt "reluctantly" assented and tried not to drool over the prospect of working on one of the hottest cars in existence.

"Why don't I take care of the dishes? Go on downstairs and get on your coveralls or some working clothes. We'll leave as soon as you're ready," said Burt, knowing that bought him another hour of time before work.

As Kurt hightailed it down the steps to his basement room, Burt padded into the living room. _Deadliest Catch, here I come_ he thought victoriously.

* * *

_Lamborghini Lamborghini Lamborghini_

Kurt swiftly descended the stairs into his ultra modern basement pad. His crappy day had suddenly turned _awesome_. If anyone asked Kurt, he would deny it til his was blue in the face (which was a really long time, since Kurt had excellent breath control thanks to years of vocal training), but Kurt had a total hard on for cars.

And he wasn't a car snob, oh no. Don't get him wrong, sports cars totally got him going, but there was something to be said for a man in a pickup. _Mmmm, pickup_. Kurt shook himself out of this train of thought before it led somewhere embarrassing. Clothes, he needed clothes.

Kurt was a firm believer that there was an outfit for every occasion, and working on cars was no exception. Sure, he had a pair of (fitted) coveralls, but a Lamborghini called for something a little more… special.

Striding over to his walk in closet, Kurt made his way to the dresser that was packed inside. Withing th confines of those wooden drawers lay clothes with *gasp* stains on them. Wrinkles! Even holes! And not fashionably deconstructed things, oh no! Worn, grease stained magnificent cotton. Kurt loved him some silk and organza, but cotton was the fabric of the Gods.

Kurt opened the drawer dedicated to bottoms and sought out his very favorite pair of jeans. Soft with age and use and fraying along the hem, Kurt smiled as he grasped the fabric in his hands. He placed it on top of his dresser before searching for an appropriate top. White was _so_ not his color right now, he would get all flushed and sweaty and just look more pink and gross. _Blech_. He chose a grey t-shirt with a deep v in the front. Slipping into the casual clothes, Kurt reveled in their simpleness.

Fashion took work. Planning, dieting, manscaping, etc. Though Kurt wouldn't give up his sinfully tight skinnies or tight fitting blouses for anything, Kurt was still a simple boy with a modest upbringing. While Kurt coveted his couture, if his father went broke and he had to give it all up, he could.

Slipping socks onto his petite feet, curt pondered his many shoe options while sitting on the floor by his bed. Kurt surveyed the shoe rack his father had built him near the end of his bed. Mercedes said Kurt was obsessed; Kurt preferred the term "passionate". He settled on a pair of red Converse (every outfit needed a pop of color) and laced them up tight. Kurt leaned against his bed and hugged his knees to his chest before rolling onto his back and pointing his legs in the air. With a swift kick, Kurt rolled back onto his feet.

He looked at himself in his full length mirror. _Not bad. Not bad at all_. He turned to admire the view from the back. Oh yeah, there is definitely something to be said about a boy in a pair of jeans, especially when said jeans emphasize such a perfect ass.

Hey, he wasn't cocky. He worked _hard_ to look like this! Dieting, yoga, endless hours of cardio and booty shaking went into engineering his figure. And since no one _else_ was appreciating the view, Kurt figured he had the right to be his biggest fan.

Walking over to his vanity, he spritzed some Chanel Coco Mademoiselle (Chanel was a classic!) onto his neck and wrists before running a brush through his hair one last time.

 _Perfection_ he thought with a smile. He grabbed his wallet, some chapstick (strawberry, thank you very much. Katy Perry totally ruined cherry for him. He kissed a girl and he _didn't_ like it.) and his iPhone. He checked the time before putting it into his pocket.

_8:42_

_Wha? How had he…_

Kurt hustled up the stairs, cursing his pokiness. It was a running joke between him and his gal pals that he could just sit and ponder his clothing choices for hours. Some people confused it for narcissism, but they knew it was just Kurt's tendency to let his mind wander. Kurt was a serious daydreamer. From fantasizing about the spring collection to planning his debut on Broadway, Kurt could get lost in his own little world at the drop of a very fashionable hat.

Rounding the corner into the living room, Kurt spotted his father sitting on the couch, fully dressed and ready to go. He looked up as he heard Kurt come barreling into the room and raised his eyebrows at his sons outfit. While the guys at the shop were open minded, he was a little worried they were going to become a little _too_ open minded. He caught Jerry staring at Kurt's legs when he showed up to the shop in a "bathing suit" (more like underwear, if you asked Burt. Fashionably short his hat.), on his way to meet Mercedes for a little swimming.

Burt had needed a change of clothes because some genius customer had forgotten leftovers in her car that had spilled all over him. While the mess wasn't a problem, the smell was. Kurt had strut in wearing his Alec Queen trunks, or whatever, and handed his father a change of clothes with a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. As he left, Burt noticed that Jerry hadn't made any progress on rotating the tires on the old Subaru he had on the lift because he was too busy checking out his son. If he didn't keep is eyes in his fool head Burt was gonna rotate _his_ tires, that's for damn sure.

"Sorry, Dad, lost track of time. Did you pack lunch? Are you ready to go? Are we taking the same car?" Kurt rattled off while twitching his hands hanging by his hips.

Burt laughed fondly. Kurt was still his little boy, too excited for his own skin. "Easy, kiddo. No, I didn't make lunch, I figure you and I can grab something when we want a break. The pleasures of being the boss, huh? Now, get your butt in the Land Rover. Whenever you bring your car to the shop you end up working on 'your baby' than other cars," he joked.

Walking out the door, Kurt mock whispers to his Navigator. "Shh, Emmy! Don't listen to him; he's a bad man! Daddy loves you." He gave his shiny, black Lincoln a fond pat before sliding into the passenger seat of his father's old Rover. His dad turned the keys and the engine roared to life. It wasn't much on the outside, but what was inside would have the guys from Top Gear drooling.

* * *

Hours later found Kurt up to his elbows underneath the hood of a screaming red Lamborghini Gallardo. Kurt wanted to _live_ inside this car. He'd taken one look at the damage done to this mechanic masterpiece and hated the driver on principle. _Poor thing, don't worry. Kurt will take care of everything._ The owner had yet to show his face at the shop and that was fine by him.

Kurt extracted himself from the car and made his way over to his father. The car was as apart as it was going to get. Now all they needed was the okay from the owner to replace the parts, and being the only shop that dealt in exotic cars, it was a sure thing. He shivered in anticipation.

He found his dad finishing up an oil change in an old Towncar. Reaching up, Burt patted his son on the cheek, leaving behind a large oily, handprint. Kurt shrieked in outrage, wiping his face on his shoulder. Burt laughed and signaled to Maureen, the elderly desk clerk, to check out the young woman waiting for her car. Lazily slinging an arm over his son's shoulder, Burt ruffled his hair. Kurt huffed in annoyance. It wasn't often that Burt got the opportunity to be so playful with his son, so he liked to make up for lost time.

"What are you thinkin' for lunch, Bambi?" he asked.

Kurt smiled and nudged his father for using his childhood (but beloved) nickname. "Don't pretend like you haven't been talking about order pizza with Jerry since we _got_ here. Go ahead; go stuff your face with cheesy, fattening carbs while your only son is left to fend for himself…" Kurt sniffed dramatically while covering his eyes in mock anguish.

Burt looked apologetic, but before he could solemnly swear to stay away from his desired lunch, Kurt cut him off. "I'm kidding, Dad. Eat whatever you want. I'll just run home and make something or go to to that little market down the street. No big deal," he said with a consoling smile.

"Are you sure?" Burt asked, halfheartedly. The shop was the one place he managed to get away from Kurt's food fanaticism and he really _needed_ those times. A man can only be forced to eat so many organic rabbit dinners before he lost it and robbed a bakery.

"Absolutely. Just don't touch that Lamborghini!" he threatened.

"No problem .The guy doesn't want us to do anything until his son stops by. I guess he's more mechanically inclined and wants to make sure us commoners don't rip him off," his father spat with distaste.

Kurt rubbed his father's arm soothingly. He knew how it got under his skin when people looked down on them. _No one pushes the Hummel's around_. That was as much a threat as it was creed. His father might have a modest profession, but he made a very good living. It was a little known fact that Burt Hummel held the patent on the modified engines that 90% of modern cars were had under their hoods.

"Well, then I'll just pop into the market down the street. They have some diet friendly options for those of us watching out waistlines," he said, teasingly. Then, quietly, "I love you, Daddy."

Burt melted. He raised a good kid. "Take your time, kid. He said it wouldn't be until around 2. You got and hour and a half. Use it,"

Kurt waved goodbye to his dad and made his way out of the shop. He walked out into the unseasonably cool weather. It really _was_ beautiful out. He glanced at his dad's range rover. _Margaret's is only 2 blocks away…_ Kurt's inner health nut berated him for even _thinking_ of taking the car. "I'm just gonna walk," he called to his father while waving his phone to let his dad know to call him if anything came up. He grabbed a reusable bag from the back of his dad's Rover.

Burt waved him on, eyeing up a pizza menu. Kurt shook his head fondly, making his way down the sidewalk to the only real market in town, Star Fruit, named because she was _star_ , darling. Margaret opened up her little slice of heaven in what used to be a drycleaners. With a smattering of fresh fruits and veggies and the essentials, Kurt shopped here almost exclusively. But what Kurt loved about it was the homemade meals and the adorable old woman that owned the place, Margaret.

Margaret was everything he wanted in a grandmother, as both of his had passed before he was born. Over the year, she had become a surrogate aunt to the flamboyant teen. If anyone else dressed as she did. He would tear them down faster than a jilted lover could throw clothes out a second story window; but on Margaret they were _precious_. From her retro beehive to her cat eye glasses (complete with beaded lanyard), from her beloved zany prints to her fabulous shoes, she was magnificent (the fact that she shared his love for Barbara Streisand and Bette Midler didn't hurt). Everything Kurt had learned about being a diva, he learned it from her.

Kurt approached the market with a skip in his step. The colorful outside was a welcome site. Marilyn's winking face greeted him on the door. _Star Fruit, indeed_. Stepping into the store, Kurt glanced toward the counter, seeking out his beloved Margaret. Seeing she was with a customer, Kurt waved to her. Spotting him, she gave him a jaunty wave and turned her attention back the rather haggard looking mother trying to keep hold of her two rambunctious children wreaking havoc to the counter.

 _Coach your team, lady!_ he thought exasperatedly. Kurt swiftly made his way to the chilled case containing the pre-made meals. Salads and sandwiches and fresh fruit, oh my! His hands flitted over the creatively named meals, picking up this and that to inspect it more closely. Finally, he settled on a summer salad; more types of lettuce than you can imagine with seasonal fruit and homemade Asian inspired vinaigrette. The Ginger Rogers.

Walking past the seasonal fruit, Kurt snagged a ripe looking peach and grabbed an unsweetened iced tea and sashayed to the now empty counter. He placed his lunch on the counter as Margaret smiled her man-eating smile and beckoned him closer with her well manicured, ruby red fingernail. As he leaned in she turned her cheek to him. He scrunched up his nose in amusement and pecked her on her rouged cheek, resting his forearms on the eclectically decorated surface.

"How you doin', sweet thing?" she purred.

"Very well, Aunt Maggie. Been missing your fabulous self, of course. When are we going to have another date? Hrmm?" he sassed, p

Margaret clucked regretfully and ran her long nails down his forearm and squeezed his hand. "I know, honey. Frank has been giving me heck about the books! Lord knows if I didn't love that boy…"

Frank was her son, the illegitimate love child of Sean Connery (or so she claimed). He tended to the books and lived next door to her with his wife, Denise, and their baby girl, Annie. Maggie was a hands on kind of gal, preferring to let him handle the financial aspects of her business while she charmed the customers out of the money (and quite a few gentleman's trousers).

"Excuses, excuses…" Kurt muttered.

"You hush! The sass on you, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!" she scolded playfully.

Kurt gave her a sassy wink, just because he could, while handing over his card for lunch. This was one of the few people in the world that knew everything about him and loved him despite of it. Heck, because of hit. Now, Kurt wasn't too keen on the whole God business, but, if there was such a thing as angels, she must be one of them.

"I'm playing, Aunt Maggie. We'll have to have a movie night soon. Give me call later on tonight?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Now, be gone!" she said whilst waving her hand imperiously toward the door.

Kurt giggled and pranced out the door, carrying his lunch back to the shop. He hummed to himself, his good mood escalating even further. Quickly reaching the shop, Kurt navigated past the mouthwatering pile of metal known as a Lamborghini and other various cars in various states of togetherness (or apartness, as it were). He could smell the cellulite inducing aroma of pizza wafting through the air and made his way to his father's office.

Opening the door, Kurt saw his father mindlessly wolfing down some pizza while watching Dirty Jobs on the small, static-y, office television. Mike Rowe was covered head-to-toe in some horrific brown slime. Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste. He man was good looking, but _why_ did he insist on covering himself in the most putrescent substances known to man? _Such a waste_ he thought with a sigh.

"Hello, dearest father. I have returned," Kurt said cheekily. Kurt set his lunch down on the small table in the office before washing his hands in the tiny sink located at the back counter. Plopping down in the chair opposite his father, Kurt ate his figure-friendly meal with relish. Focusing on the television, Kurt was forced to admit that Mike Rowe was still devastatingly handsome while covered in muck. He sighed wistfully.

Where was _his_ Mike Rowe? Despite what others may believe, Kurt's ideal guy wasn't some well-to-do, high class, suit. He wanted a guy that would compliment him, remind him of the more simple things in life. Someone that shared _some_ of his interests, but would be able to introduce him to things he may have otherwise missed. Someone, well… someone like his dad.

I guess that saying about little girls wanting to marry their dads applied to gay teenage boys as well.

* * *

After lunch, Kurt had disposed of their dishes and tidied up his father's office while waiting for this 'rich S.O.B.'s" son. He stretched languidly before taking in the damage done to his person. Grease, oil, wiper fluid. Even the prospect of having to Level 5 Emergency cleansing and moisturizing tonight didn't dampen his spirits.

Exiting the office, Kurt made his way back to the sports car just begging for attention. Kurt smiled as he approached the red beauty. Leaning over the hood, Kurt continued to tinker (read: drool over) with the gears. His fingers stroked the parts reverently, memorizing every inch of the vehicle. It wasn't often that Kurt had the opportunity to work on such a fine car. Though he was inexplicably attracted to them, he also found them appallingly ostentatious.

Standing up to survey his work, Kurt nodded to himself in approval. However, before Kurt could drift any further into his bout of self-praise, he heard voice he thought he would never hear again.

"Well, Kurt, I never thought I'd find you here. Aren't you looking well?"

Kurt spun around with the fury and pizzazz of a diva.

 _Jesse. St. JERKFACE_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that it for this chapter folks. Yes, Jesse had, indeed, made an appearance. As I was writing this I was thinking of what kind of conflict I could have at the shop. Who would make a better son of a rich S.O.B. that Jesse St. James?
> 
> No one. Duh :P
> 
> As always, reviews are lovely. They make me smile 3


	5. Alternate Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, internet lovelies! Well, I'm back with another chapter, now beta-ed for your reading pleasure by the magnificent **aichd13**! *fanfare*
> 
> First off, sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know some of you were expecting Sam and Kurt to meet in the last chapter, but it just didn't happen. The plot, it has a mind of its own! Originally, Sam was totally going to be the guy coming in but then the owner was an ass and we all know Robert is kind of amazing. But don't worry, there will be plenty of opportunities for Sam to ogle Kurt under his Camaro's hood :P Jesse is actually quite vital to the plot, so he'll be around for a while. But no worries, he won't be threatening Sam's place in Kurt's heart (or pants).
> 
> School should start in the next chapter or so, and I plan on loosely following the plot of the second season. HOWEVER, the one ultra-mega-super change is that Quinn never got preggo. Yes, she cheated on Finn, and they broke up, but there is no Beth. Also, I am not actually a Rachel hater, though it may seem that way at first. I just don't think that her voice is truly spectacular and therefore main character worthy. Lately she has become a bit whiny, but I am hoping that Ryan Murphy redeems her character.
> 
> Finally, chapters may be a little slow for the next week. Long story short, I poured molten hot oatmeal down my arm. Luckily, my roommate is a first-aid genius and bandaged me up double quick. It's a bit difficult to type at my desk with my arm all blistery and burny, but I'm dedicated (addicted) so there will be stuff coming, never fear!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Le sigh.
> 
> WARNINGS: You know 'em!

Kurt stared in shock. This wasn't real. The fruit in his salad must have had some kind of mutant-fungus-hallucinogen causing him to imagine this loathsome creature smiling in front of him. Admittedly, he and Rachel had their share of disagreements, but hoes before bros, right? As an honorary girl, it was supposed to be his job to smack down St. James like the hand of God.

_The ex of my friend is my enemy, right? What the hell is he doing here?_ He had a lot of nerve showing his face in Lima. Glee kids may be a laughing stock at McKinley, but they took care of their own. But then, brainwave. _No, oh no. Not the rich guy's son! For the love of Prada!_

Kurt took a fortifying breath. "Jesse St. James. Well, I can't say I ever expected to see you again,"

Jesse just smiled his dumb, smug, damningly attractive smile and strolled toward the Lamborghini.

"Pity," he drawled. "Though I can't say I'm sad to see you, even if it is because my father can't drive a stick shift."

Kurt was taken aback. Was Jesse St. James _flirting_ with him? In the words of one Mercedes Jones, "Oh, HELL to the NAW!" Kurt would just ignore the gorgeous traitor's flirting for the time being. His father was in the shop and he made a point to not diva-out in his presence.

Kurt gestured to the Lambo, eyebrow raised questioningly. "Well, would you like to take a look? Make sure us common folk aren't trying to take advantage of your wallet thanks to your father's inability to shift and drive at the same time," Okay, that was _mildly_ bitchy. His bad.

Jesse just chuckled and said "I apologize for my father. He can be a bit… difficult,"

Kurt moved to the side of the sports car, leaning against the hood as Jesse inspected the vehicle. Kurt snorted. _This is a waste of time_. Finishing his perusal, Jesse turned to Kurt with a sly grin. "Well, my father truly did a number on this poor thing. The undercarriage is completely destroyed. Please, do as you see fit,"

Outwardly, Kurt just nodded dismissively and pointed Jesse to the waiting area inside the shop, but inside Kurt was leaping with joy. He had the okay to work on this sexy little number for goodness knows how long.

Instead of taking a seat, Jesse chose to lean against a table placed near where Kurt was working, staring with undisguised interest. Kurt ignored him and went straight to work on repairing the damage. Walking over to the remote, Kurt pressed the button to raise the car in order to make replacing some of the parts more easy. Reaching the desired height, Kurt released the button and made his way back to the vehicle. Sure Kurt couldn't replace some of the heavier things, but he could still get his automotive fix in the interim.

Just when Kurt was getting back into his good mood, Jesse had to ruin it. From his perch on the table, he had been observing Kurt work. Catching Kurt off guard, he called out "I never pictured you as the mechanic type,"

Jumping, Kurt whirled to face the smug (yet so very talented) singer. Diva personality firmly in place, Kurt said "There's much you don't know about _me_ , Jesse St. James, and I'd like to keep it that way!"

Jesse's eyes sparkled in amusement. He crossed his legs at the ankle and observed him with a covetous eye. "Ms. Corcoran was wrong,"

_What the hell does that mean?_ Kurt thought with confusion. This was clearly a ploy to draw him into some conversation. But why? As far as he could tell, Jesse was the kind of ulterior motives, but what purpose could this serve? _Must. Resist. Temptation. To ask._

Kurt valiantly tried to focus his attention of choosing the right wrench for the task. Only….what was the task, again? Damn Jesse and his perfectly groomed hair and velvety voice. How was he supposed to ignore something like this. With a sigh, Kurt stalked toward Jesse, stopping just out of arms reach.

"Explain," he demanded.

Jesse's smile reminded Kurt of a shark. A devastatingly handsome shark. A devastatingly handsome shark that knew it was about to get its way. "Ms. Corcoran, Shelby, convinced me to go to McKinley to destroy New Directions and get her in touch with her daughter. Rachel was supposed to leave you guys and come to Vocal Adrenaline, ensuring our national win with her crazy passion and my unrivaled talent. We didn't count on her unwavering loyalty to such a hopeless group," he finished,

"This still doesn't explain how she was wrong," Kurt said exasperatedly.

"She was convinced Rachel was our ticket to nationals. Maybe she was biased, since she is her daughter, but I always said it was you," he said, staring directly in Kurt's eyes. "Voices like Rachel's are a dime a dozen in the scheme of things. But a countertenor such as you, that is a rarity. Where Shelby wanted me to seduce Rachel to Vocal Adrenaline, I wanted to seduce _you_ ," he finished, his voice like a caress.

Kurt was pissed. Kurt was aghast. Kurt was… oddly flattered. Before he could formulate a response, Jesse plowed ahead with his explanation.

"I was all ready to go ahead and change the plan, courting you and coaxing Rachel into becoming my obligatory "fag hag"; since the prospect of dating her made me temporarily lose my will to sing, but after careful research (read: stalking) you proved to be too intelligent for that. Instead, I tried to keep my contact with you to a minimum; sure you would discover my true intentions. Though I wish I had gone through with my plan; seeing you like this, ravishingly low maintenance, makes me lament for what could have been. Alas," he finished dramatically.

Jesse St. James may be the devil in disguise, but _damn_ could that boy talk. There was something so attractive about his manipulative, evil musical genius persona. But Kurt would not be wooed by pretty words! Or so he told himself. Rather firmly.

_Don't you dare fall into Jesse St. Gorgeous' arms. Don't you do it, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Sisters before misters, and all that jazz._

Kurt eyed Jesse speculatively for a long moment. He wasn't sure how to react to this new discovery. On one hand, it was high time someone recognized him for the gem he was! He was a Goddess! Er… God. New Directions should be falling all over themselves to showcase his (and his girl, Mercedes) undeniable talent. But _once again,_ he came in second to the gagfest that was _Finchel_.

On the other hand, he had nearly destroyed them. Not to mention smashing an egg on Rachel's inflated head. But his fashion sense was impeccably and, if his perfectly groomed nails were any indication, he knew the benefits of regular manicures. _No!_ He would not be swayed! It was then that Kurt realized he and Jesse had been staring at each other for an unusual amount of time and his father had noticed the silence.

Burt wiped his hands on a spare rag as he made his way over to his son and… a boy that was going to feel the wrath of one Burt Andrew Hummel. That rich guy's kid was looking at Kurt like a starving man looked at a T-bone. He knew that look, he had worn it himself when he was a teenager. And he remembered what he wanted when he looked at a girl like that. _Not on my watch!_ Burt seethed.

Making his way over to the teenage boys, Burt cleared his throat, gaining their attention. Kurt looked to his father and blushed. _Curse my porcelain skin!_ Jesse St. James didn't seem to have the same problem, transforming before his eyes, going from lascivious suitor to stalwart gentleman in a flash. He held out his hand to the elder Hummel, smiling genially.

"Jesse St. James, sir. I'm sorry about the confusion with my father, I've told Kurt to repair thing as he sees fit. I was just admiring his work," he said slickly.

_I'm sure you were…_ Burt grumbled to himself. Reluctantly shaking the boy's hand, he looked to his son for confirmation. Kurt's pink cheeks gave this St. James kid as a liar but he wisely held his tongue. Kurt could become unreasonable in the face Burt's protectiveness (Kurt said smothering, but Burt failed to see the difference). Without thinking, Burt said "Kurt's good with his hands,"

Kurt's eyes widened comically. Of _all_ the things his father could have chosen to say, _THAT_ is what came out? _Oh. Em. Gee. Kill me now. Ground, open up and swallow me, something!_ Jesse just smiled charmingly and fixed an amused eye on Kurt's comically red face. Burt suddenly beat a hasty retreat, suddenly excusing himself to attend to a tire emergency somewhere on the far side of the shop.

Kurt brought his had up to hide his face. He looked to Jesse in hopes that he would just ignore his father's enormous blunder. No such luck.

"I have noticed that you are quite… dexterous,"

Kurt snapped. "Alright! I don't know what crazy plans you've hatched in the regrettably attractive head of yours, but this stops now! What game are you playing?" he demanded.

Jesse released a sigh. "I suppose I deserved that. The downfall of avoiding you is that you only know what little you've seen of me or were told by Rachel. And while she is run of the mill singer, she is a class act drama queen. You've no doubt heard about my lying, manipulative personality, but you don't know anything else, and that's my own doing. I honestly had no intentions to bother you when I came into the shop. I've been told I have a tendency to come on too strong" he finished, sounding oddly sincere.

Kurt sighed. He could feel forgiveness bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin. He always had a weakness for a well dressed, well spoken man. Well, that and bumbling idiots. _Wait, come on too strong? That implies he was coming on to me in general? What in the name of Marc Jacobs is going on?_ "Jesse, forgive me if I'm wrong, but the last time I checked, you were into those with anatomy vastly different than my own," _There, that was delicate enough_ Kurt thought.

"I don't believe you ever _actually_ checked," Jesse replied cheekily.

Kurt thought that over. _Well, I guess I_ haven't _checked. You know what they say about assuming…_ "Very well, consider this me checking."

Jesse smiled, but it was a _real_ smile. No cockiness, no falsely amplified charm, just Jesse. It was... sweet. "I guess I'm bi. I've always found myself more attracted to people, talented people, regardless of gender. Can you blame me for finding you attractive?"

_…Really? Attracted to talent? Then again, look who we're talking about_ …

"Okay, I guess I can buy that. Coming from anyone else, that would sound like a major line, but…" he trailed off, not really sure how to proceed. "I mean, who am I to judge for being attracted to something 'different'?"

_There, that sounded mature_.

Jesse just continued smiling. Sensing that his conversation was over for the time being, Kurt went back to work on the Lamborghini. This time, the silence was more companionable. The truth of the matter was, Kurt always felt able to relate to Jesse, feeling like a big fish in a small pond. Even though his knowledge of the boy was less than impressive, he could tell that much.

Kurt continued his work on the car, quickly completing all the work he was able to do. Kurt possessed a lot of things; flawless skin, perfect pitch, the ability to know when it comes from a bottle, but Herculean strength wasn't among those traits.

He signaled to Mick, an Irish immigrant that had been working at the shop since it opened, that he was finished with his work on the car so that he could get started on reassembling the engine. He turned to Jesse and motioned him toward his dad's office. It would take a while for Mick to get the engine in that beauty, and the car wouldn't be in racing condition for another few days. Sure, they were the only dealer in town that dealt in exotic cars, but they didn't have _every_ part to _every_ car lying around the shop. He'd just print him an invoice and send him on his way.

* * *

Kurt sat in the passenger seat of his father's Rover, thinking back over the events of the day. More specifically, the events in his father's office. After beckoning Jesse St. James into the modest sized room, he sat behind his dad's desk to begin compiling an invoice to give to St. James Sr. He should have realized he was in for trouble when Jesse closed the door behind him. Hearing the _snick_ of the door shitting, Kurt looked up to see Jesse taking the seat across the desk. Thinking nothing of it, Kurt went back to his computer screen.

"Now, we don't have all the parts needed to have that magnificent machine road ready, but we can get them rather quickly. I would say that your dad can come pick up his car by the end of the week. The guy we order the parts from is just a few towns over,"

Kurt looked back to Jesse, noticing he was now leaning on the desk. He appeared to be listening to Kurt with rapt attention. Shrugging it off, Kurt continued. "Anyway, would you like to take a look at the invoice? We don't require payment until the car is ready to drive, but I have a feeling your father is going to want to know every detail every step of the way,"

Jesse nodded and rolled his eyes at his father's antics, sharing a knowing look with Kurt. _Dads_ it seemed to say. Kurt remembered the incident with his father's unfortunate outburst. _Dads, indeed._

Kurt got up and made his way to the printer, which was located inconveniently across the room. It was an ancient beast, so massive that there was no possible way to keep it on the desk. And his father outright refused to keep in on the floor next to the desk, claiming it was a hazard. Kurt was convinced he couldn't be bothered to look where he was going. Snatching the warm paper from the tray, he turned around to retrieving the stapler at the desk.

Only to encounter a St. James in his way.

Jesse was so close he could smell the other boy's cologne. _Armani_ Kurt thought inanely. Of all the things to be thinking about when this close to an _actual_ boy that _may_ share his preferences, Kurt chose to think about _Armani_? Not, "Wow, his lips are lovely when they aren't lying," or "His chest is deliciously broad,". No, Kurt focuses on the perfume. Which he totally blames for what happened in the next few minutes, by the way. How can one think when confronted with such a wondrous smell?

Before he could formulate a sentence (read: a scathing warning), Jesse had moved into his personal space. One hand cupped his chin while its twin found Kurt's hip. Jesse angled his face and slowly moved in towards Kurt, giving him the space to move away.

But he didn't.

Jesse slowly brought his lips towards Kurt, softly pressing them along his jaw, moving down towards his neck. Sensing Kurt's inactivity (not screaming or hitting) as approval, he slowly made his way to Kurt's face. Jesse looked into Kurt's hooded eyes and moved in for the kill. Er, kiss. Kurt's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. _Is this really happening? Am I about to get my first kiss?_

No.

At the last second, Kurt tuned his head, causing Jesse to place a rather steamy kiss on his ear. Which was… strangely hot. He'd have to file that away for later. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I just- this just doesn't feel right."

Much to Kurt's surprise, Jesse let out what appeared to be a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," he whispered.

Kurt was confused. A boy just kissed the majority of his face, got _very_ familiar with his ear, and "Thank goodness" is the response he gets after shooting him down? "Um, should I be offended?"

Jesse was immediately contrite. "No! Not at all, I-that really came out wrong. I just- when I saw you, it felt like a chance to do things over. I knew if I didn't at least try to kiss you, I'd regret it. But, when I did, something just wasn't right. I still really want to get to know you, just not as I originally thought I would. Do you… understand?" he finished shyly.

Well, this was definitely a new side to Jesse St. James. Apologies, sincerity, Kurt wasn't sure what to make of it. Things like this just didn't _happen_ to Kurt. He couldn't wait to tell Mercedes! But Kurt was getting ahead of himself. First, he had to deal with an endearingly vulnerable singer in front of him.

"Believe it or not, I do," Kurt began. "I'm glad we got to clear the air. And I'm really glad you aren't mad I turned away. Strangely enough, I'm glad you came in today. Now can we please go over these papers so you can get your handsome self back to wherever it is you came from?" he finished with a grin.

"After you," Jesse said, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically.

Kurt giggled and hustled to his dad's desk. "Here is a list of everything _I_ did today, if your father asks, and the cost of the part/labor. Now this is just a rough estimate, but keep in mind the repair is going to be up there. This _is_ a Lamborghini Gallardo, after all,"

Jesse nodded appreciatively and pocketed the invoice. "Thanks, for this. And for… you know, not mentioning this, maybe?" he finished hopefully.

"Not a chance, St. James. Mercedes is going to love it, and I love to make my girl happy," Kurt sassed.

Jesse groaned and began to head out the door. Just short of opening the door, Jesse turned to face him.

"Do you- do you think that I could call you? Not for any kind of romantic notions, but… this was nice. It's a relief to be around someone that can give as good as they get. And you, Mister Hummel, can sass with the best of them."

"Well, it's good to see you recognize talent where you see it," Kurt said with a smirk. "And yes, I believe you can. Though Rachel will most likely shriek me to death should she find out, I find your company to be enjoyable. In a non-romantic kind of way."

* * *

After exchanging numbers, Jesse was on his way and before he knew it he was safely ensconced in his father's car. Kurt knew his silence was alerting his father that something had happened between him and the former lead singer of Vocal Adrenaline, but he was too astonished by the day's events to care.

"So," Burt began "Anything going on with you and that rich kid?"

"I love how you say that as if _I'm_ not a rich kid, Dad," Kurt deadpanned, hoping to derail his father from this conversation.

"Don't try to get me off topic," Burt returned, well versed in all of Kurt's evasion tactics. "I saw the way that kid was lookin' at you."

Kurt sighed, resigning himself to the conversation. "You don't need to worry about me and Jesse. He's not my type," he said dully.

His dad seemed to accept this. Or so he thought. Uncomfortably, Burt shifted in his seat, clearing his throat before asking "So, if this Jesse kid isn't your type… what is?"

Kurt looked to his father in disbelief. As supportive as his father was, he was never one to bring up the subject of boys. Kurt was certain it had nothing to do with his sexuality and everything to do with the fact that Burt wasn't ready to admit that his little boy was growing up. This was foreign territory for the both of them.

"Are we really going to have this conversation, Dad? Do you really want to know my 'type'?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yes, we are most certainly going to have this conversation. I need to know what type of boys to be on my guard around!" Burt growled. He gripped the steering wheel like it was some boys neck, intent on defiling his poor little boy. Nobody got one over on Burt Hummel.

Kurt was shocked. He briefly considered lying, so his father wouldn't really know when there was _someone_ , but her ditched that thought as quick as it came. No one knew him better than his father. And, as Burt had pointed out countless times, his eyes gave him away. His mother's eyes. Even if he managed to get away with this fib, it wouldn't last. Kurt was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them.

Kurt brought his hands to his temples to attempt to rub away some of the tension. "I guess…" Kurt began hesitatingly. "I guess… I like guys like you. Reliable, calm, protective, but they know when to give me my space. Handsome." He looked to his father shyly. Was he blushing? "I don't know. Different than me, so we don't get bored, but similar too. Smart. Soft spoken. More… masculine than myself." Kurt prayed that that was enough to satisfy is father's sudden curiosity.

Looking to his father, Burt was flushed a ruddy red. He knew he said (thought) this all the time, but he raised a good kid. "Alright," he said, voice nothing more than a whisper. The pair quickly settled back into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

Lying in his bed, Kurt couldn't help but feel like he had entered some sort of alternate universe. Out of all the ways he had expected this day to go, almost getting kissed and having an awkward relationship talk with his father weren't even on the plane of possibilities.

But why had he turned away? Yes, he and Jesse had both agreed that it wasn't right, but still. That was likely his only chance to get kissed before he left this town. Boys weren't exactly lining up at his door. Or, you know, coming out in general. Kurt sighed, confused. He was torn between being happy he hadn't wasted his first kiss on a (maybe?) jerk but sad that he probably squandered his only opportunity to kiss a boy on this side of 18.

Kurt slammed his hand down on his Egyptian cotton sheets in frustration.

_Fuck._


	6. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, loves! _The_ chapter. The chapter where all the planets align and angels sing and Sam and Kurt finally meet! It's been a long time coming (almost 25,000 words) so I hope I don't disappoint all of you out there in fanfiction land. I am going to write this chap from Sam's point of view but then I am going to do a little back tracking and include a some Kurt because there are one or two vital things y'all need to know before then next chapter. Mmkay? (P.S. I'm embracing my Southern roots, can you tell?) And sorry about the Finn hating, but in this Kurt didn't pursue Finn quite so aggressively and Finn overreacted that night in the basement. Just, you know, fyi.
> 
> Now, I am a huge fan of a slow build, so don't expect them to just jump into bed together. I will definitely include more smutty goodness, but they won't be knockin' fashionable boots anytime soon. I am going to loosely follow the events in the second season, I am still up in the air with Sam dating Quinn, but there will definitely be some conflict there. I have some hilarity planned for my Rocky Horror chap that I am pretty sure is impossible, but then again, so is male pregnancy, but we love that anyway :P
> 
> Once again, thank you to the amazing **aichd13** for being my beta! *claps*
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine *sobs*
> 
> WARNINGS: You know 'em an love 'em :P Boy love, angst, lust, homophobia (ewww), language, etc.

Sam lay in his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. R2 laid curled in the crook if his arm, dreaming adorable puppy dreams, drooling all over Sam and his sheets. Sam couldn't be bothered to care this morning, he had some serious thinking to do.

A few days after that mortifying conversation with his parental units, they had gone to McKinley to register Sam for the new year. Sam had no idea transferring involved signing so many papers. How many trees had he killed by leaving Dalton? Should he feel guilty? Donate to some kind of eco fund? Plant a tree? Stop thinking about this? Yeah.

It was now a month before Fall semester began and McKinley had started sending out all kinds of information about this program and that club, and most of it didn't interest Sam at all. He had nothing against people that loved chess or people that loved them some Jesus; he just wasn't one of them. Celibacy club? Not so much. But there was one thing that had caught Sam's attention.

Football.

Dalton hadn't had a football team. The administrators said it was a sport that encouraged violence. Personally, Sam thought the council had felt the sport was too plebeian. They had fencing for goodness sake! Sure, it was all dignified and had tons of rules, but it was freaking _sword fighting_! Back in the day, that's kinda how you killed someone. Sam shivered. And nowadays, too, if there was some freak accident. Maybe it was for the best that McKinley didn't have a fencing team…

Sam had some experience with football. Even though Dalton didn't have an official team, he and Blaine used meet up with a group of Daltonites and play on the soccer field every Saturday. QB 1. Blaine and Sam shared a love of football. Well, Sam loved football. Blaine liked guys in tight pants. But then again, so did Sam sometimes.

In a week's time McKinley's new football coach, Dot Beiste, was running a two week long football camp before a week long try-out period. Pro: it was an open invitation camp, so Sam was free to go. Con: it was an open invitation camp, so _everyone_ was free to go. How many people would there be? Would Sam make a fool of himself? Would they all know each other and single out the new kid?

_Shit._

He was only glad some strange forced had compelled him to get the mail the day that particular notice came; that way if he chickened out, he was the only one that would be disappointed. Sam rolled over (onto R2, sorry buddy!) and opened his desk drawer. There, on top, lay the informational packet. He'd looked at this ten thousand times in the past couple of days. At this point, Sam wasn't sure if he was doing it to torture himself or convince himself.

Sam heaved a massive sigh, flopping onto his back once more (and onto R2-D2 again, sorry!). He leafed through the packet, though by this point he basically had it memorized. Waiver, expectations, cost, etc. Why was this so hard? In theory, this should be an easy choice to make. Being on the football team could really make a difference in the scheme of things. Popularity was like currency in the Sovereign Nation of High School.

In reality, it boiled down to the fact that Sam was terrified of failure. Failing himself, failing his parents, friends, anyone that mattered. He had no idea what these kids were like. He'd heard of Coach Beiste, she was a damn good coach. Did that mean this was already a damn good team? Was she tying to build, like, a super team? Right now, Sam really regretted never visiting (spying on) McKinley.

Sam dropped the papers onto his stomach and ran his fingers through his significantly lighter hair (He had swore he was off lemon juice for good, but Blaine had gotten to him in a moment of weakness). Reaching for the phone, he dialed Blaine's number. Maybe Blaine could work his magic again.

The phone rang so long that Sam was losing his nerve and nearly ended the call. When Blaine answered, it sounded like he had been running…or doing something a little more…personal. "Hullo?" he panted.

"Blaine? Is… this a bad time?"

"No, no, not at all. I was just chasing after Elaine. Nina made crepes this morning and Elaine went a little overboard on the sugar. What's up?"

"I need you to convince me to go to football camp." Sam stated simply.

"Aaaand, why do you need convincing?" Blaine returned.

"I just- I don't know…" Sam trailed off uncertainly. Why did he need convincing? "I feel like it could either really help me or really fuck things up. If I get out there and rock it, they could like me or resent me. If I suck, then it gives everyone at that camp, which _includes_ cheerleaders, so much teasing material that McKinley will be absolute _HELL_."

Blaine sighed quietly. He was very familiar with this train of thought. He needed to get control of the Sam-OCD-I'm-a-loser meltdown, and quick, if this was to be a productive conversation. "Sammy, you're doing that thing again. That thing where you think of every possible thing that could go wrong and then multiply it by a million. And then you are so into thinking about those things that they evolve and become crazy, impossible situations. Remember that time when you were worried about passing that European History test and suddenly you were panicking about what you were going to do when you were a homeless vagrant because your parents disowned you from flunking out of community college?"

 _Not my proudest moment…_ Sam thought ruefully. Especially since his fears had been unfounded and he owned that test. "Just-ugh!" he cried. "I know that this is ridiculous, I just can't help but feeling… really, really nervous."

"Hey," Blaine soothed. "No. I know I wasn't able to convince you to join the Warblers, because you said you couldn't sing, but it was because you were afraid of embarrassing yourself. We all know you can sing, and that you wanted to be there. Don't let this be like that. Don't not do it because you're afraid of what the kids at McKinley might say. This could be really good for you." He finished gently.

"You're right. I know you're right. I just- this is so much harder than I thought it would be. I just- I assumed I would feel better right away, but things are just getting more complicated. Emotionally, ya know?" Sam was sitting up now, idly petting R2, trying to soothe himself with his beloved Frenchie. And feeling like a major jerk, complaining to Blaine about going to the very school he wanted to attend. He'd been desperately trying to come up with ways to get Blaine to come to McKinley, but here he was, a month away from the first day of school, and still nothing.

"I know I'm right," he said smugly. "Now get your fine ass downstairs and tell your parents!" Blaine hung up the phone, confident his orders would be followed.

 _A bit too smug_ Sam thinks fondly. But right, as usual. Sam quickly went through his morning routine, aiming to get downstairs before he can talk himself out of what Blaine talked him into. And not think about it too much, because it made his head hurt.

After grabbing the packet (and R2), Sam trotted downstairs. He spotted his parents drinking their coffee (or tea, in his mother's case) on the porch and took a deep breath before pushing open the sliding glass door and greeting his folks.

"G'morning," he chirped. He tried to manage a smile, but he must not have succeeded, judging from the concerned look on his mother's face.

"Morning, honey. Did you… sleep well?"

"Uh, yeah, fine. I- I just have something I need to talk to you guys about," he stuttered.

"What is it?" his father asked, looking at him speculatively.

"Well, McKinley starts in a month. And… football camp…starts in a week. Um, it's open to all McKinley students for, uh, two weeks. And then the last week is the official tryouts. I- I'd really like to go…" he trailed off.

"You don't sound so sure," his father said thoughtfully.

"I-I do want to. I'm just… nervous."

Patricia smiled. She had a very similar conversation with Sam right before he began Westchester Primary. _"But what if no one likes me?"_ Sam, with his big eyes and pouting lips, was a force to be reckoned with.

"And what is it you're asking, exactly? Permission?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, its $350. But it includes lunch and it's only weekdays. Um, from 8 until 2, so I won't be gone for too long. So…" he finished uncertainly. He looked back and forth between his mom and dad, holding his breath.

Robert and Patricia pretended to deliberate. Sam didn't know it, but they knew all about football camp; it was in the parent's newsletter, introducing all new members of the staff. The piece about the new coach mentioned her plans for a summer training camp. After reading it, Patricia and Robert discussed what their stance would be if Sam approached them. Quite frankly, they were for anything that might bring Sam out of his shell.

Robert finally looked at Sam and decided to cut their fun short. It was clear that Sam was really conflicted about this, so he had to applaud his son's courage in stepping out of his comfort zone. "Of course, son. Just tell us when you need the check by and we'll make sure you have it."

"Um, it starts next week, the letter said we should either mail it in ahead of time or just bring it in on the first day of class," Sam forced out. He _was_ going to do this.

Patricia, ever the practical one, looked to Sam and said, "Why don't you bring it in? Camp is only a week away; there is a chance it won't arrive on time. I'll leave it on the fridge for you."

Sam couldn't help but feel he made mountains out of molehills. The only obstacle in the way was himself. Maybe this _would_ be good for him…

* * *

Kurt couldn't believe he was having this conversation. When Finn had come over with Carole he had assumed it was to watch some sport on the big screen with his dad, not to convince (beg) Kurt into remaking the worst decision of his life.

No, not dating Brittany. As lovely (and simple) as she was, she was just… not his type. Though, if he was straight he could totally see the appeal; apparently that blonde hair and busty thing was a major turn on for men of the heterosexual persuasion. Ugh.

Wait, what was he talking about again?

Oh, right, Finn. Okay, so maybe he hadn't had the purest intentions when he had setup his father and Carole, but now he was genuinely happy his father was happy. Mostly. Sometimes Kurt couldn't stand the way that Finn and Carole seemed to be changing their lives. Sure, it was great to have a partner in The Healthy Food Crusade with his father, and yeah, having a woman in the house was a welcome relief; but sometimes he hated the way Finn was able to make him feel so jealous.

Burt was _his_ dad. Kurt knew he was a good son; he loved his dad with all his heart and never gave in any (well…) trouble. But Kurt couldn't help but feel he had introduced his father to a second, better son. He knew that was foolish but he couldn't help the way he felt. It was petty, but when his dad chose him over Finn after the "faggy" debacle, Kurt secretly rejoiced.

Carole and Finn were over more often than not. He knew Carole and his father had *ahem* _sleepovers_ sometimes, but Finn rarely stayed past ten. He was still a little uncomfortable with the idea of his mom finding someone that was replacing his father, and Kurt felt guilty for being grateful for that fact.

Whoever guessed that Kurt could resent someone he had once held so dear?

Anyway, Kurt should have suspected something when Finn kept glancing at him all night long, but Finn was notoriously awkward and socially inept, so he just chalked it up to Finn being…Finn.

Carole arrived well before Finn, bearing groceries for dinner and a smile for Kurt. Kurt rushed to help her deposit (reusable!) bags on the counter. Kurt started unpacking ingredients for dinner (chicken and veggie skewers with salad and low-fat vinaigrette) while Carole wandered in the living room to greet Burt with a kiss and a fond shake of her head (that man and his fishing shows).

When she made her way back to the kitchen Kurt already had the wooden skewers soaking in water and was marinating the chicken. After sealing the bag tightly, he plopped it in the fridge and turned to start on the vegetables.

"Kurt, honey, you don't have to do that." Carole said. "I don't come over so you can cook for me!"

Kurt laughed and gestured to the second cutting board he had prepared. He chuckled and said, "Don't worry about it, Carole. I actually love cooking. Someone had to keep my dad healthy because he sure wasn't going to do it." He and Carole shared an amused/exasperated look and commenced with the chopping.

Piles of peppers, mushroom, and onions later, Carole and Kurt were ready to assemble the skewers. As Kurt was removing the chicken from the fridge, Finn ambled gracelessly through the front door. Finn, bottomless pit that he was, sensed food being prepared in the kitchen and shuffled in awkwardly. Ever since the time he dropped the "f"-bomb in his basement, Finn knew he was on thin ice and acted accordingly. Kurt couldn't help but be a little grateful for the delay in Carole and Finn's permanent placement in the Hummel household.

"Uh, hey," Finn mumbled. "Need any help?"

"No, thanks," both Carole and Kurt said quickly. As much as they appreciated the offer, Finn was known to mess up microwave dinners.

"Why don't you go in the living room and watch some TV with Burt. We won't be done for a little while. And maybe you can bring up what we talked about…" Carole said with a meaningful look.

Hrmm. Kurt would have to investigate this later. He and Carole chatted amiably while finishing dinner, each relishing in a little girl-chat. They quickly plated the food and called the boys into the kitchen. Carole gestured for Finn to set the table with the plates and utensils stacked on the end counter.

After messily setting the table, Finn plonked himself down in "his" chair and did all but salivate over the prospect of eating. Kurt couldn't help but imagine Finn as an oversized dog. _He's got the smarts of one…_ Kurt thought venomously. He sighed. _That was uncalled for._ Kurt hadn't been feeling very tolerant towards Finn lately. He'd had enough of Finn getting off easy; always being the favorite, always getting his way, always being forgiven after flashing that dopey smile.

Le sigh. This was not a productive train of thought. Kurt knew that he had faults, and his ability to hold a grudge was one of them. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he carried the platter of skewers to the table and placed it in the center. He could tell his father was lamenting the lack of starch (potatoes) in the meal, but Carole had been a major advocate in expanding his father's palate (and shrinking his waistline).

Burt and Finn dug in while Carole and Kurt ate more modest (human) portions. While Kurt loved the way skewers tasted, he hated just eating them off the stick (his father and Finn had no such compulsions). He pushed the meat and veggies off with a fork and ate them daintily. Burt complimented their cooking through a mouthful of food and Finn hastily agreed.

"So," Burt began slowly. "Are you staying for the game, Finn?"

Finn quickly looked from Burt to his mother. Carole nodded to Finn's silent question about whether they were staying longer. "Sure," he said with a goofy grin.

Kurt's stomach soured; he may not like sports but Sundays were _their_ thing. Luckily, Kurt had nearly finished his dinner by this point so he just nursed his Diet Coke and tried not to glare at Finn's big, dumb head. Kurt pointedly ignored his father and Finn while turning to engage Carole in a conversation about the necklace she was wearing (honestly, it wasn't that great; he was just looking for a reason to ignore the men-folk).

Soon everyone had finished and Kurt volunteered to do the washing up by himself. It was then that Burt knew something was up. Kurt hated washing dishes. He claimed it was terrible for the skin on his hands and that gloves only made it worse because of some kind of… powder or something. Burt tried, unsuccessfully, to catch his son's eye without making a production out of it. Burt sighed and resigned himself to whatever punishment Kurt was sure to passive-aggressively dole out.

Kurt heaved a sigh of relief as his father skulked into the living room after Finn. He hated being upset with his dad. He also hated playing the I'm-angry-at-you-but-I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-why-because-you-should-just-know game. Come to think of it, Kurt hated a lot of things…

Including getting off topic. Back to the anger. No one could have a diva-fit quite like Kurt, but he was too emotionally exhausted from feeling this way all the time to really get into it. He'd probably just go to bed early and pretend this little episode never happened. Yes, that sounded excellent.

Kurt had just finished his moisturizing routine when he heard a tentative knock on the door down to his basement pad. He sighed. Kurt had so been looking forward to sweeping this incident under the rug. Normally he was grateful for a father that was willing to talk things out, but he was too exasperated right now. Resigning himself to this discussion, Kurt called, "Come in!"

Much to his surprise, it _wasn't_ his father that lumbered down the steps to his immaculate room, but Finn. This was the first time he had been downstairs since the whole "f"-bomb. Kurt had gotten rid of this Moroccan paradise and gone back to his beloved Dior gray interior. Except the privacy screen, he loved that damn thing in spite of the drama it caused. Now it screened off the corner where his desk area resided from the rest of the room. Not that Kurt looked at anything that needed to be private; he just hated feeling like people were sticking their noses into his business.

Kurt felt an overwhelming wave of dread wash over him at the taller boy's presence. Even after bonding over Lady Gaga, tension had been high between Kurt and Finn since that fateful night. Finn clearly felt guilty for taking his frustration with Azimio and Karofsky out on Kurt, while Kurt wasn't sure how to handle such a, unusually subdued giant.

"Finn," Kurt said hesitantly. "I didn't expect you to come down here. Does my dad need me?"

Finn ducked his head self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, no, he's all set. I think him and my mom are like, noodling or whatever,"

Kurt sighed. "Canoodling, Finn, canoodling. And _eww_ , by the way," he spat. "Did you… want something? Or…?" Kurt left the sentence unfinished, completely unsure as to why Finn would bother coming into his room. As far as he could tell, Finn was still in the "cooties" stage of life, and though Kurt was fairly certain that he was sorry for calling him names, on some level Finn believed his gay/unpopularity was contagious. _He_ did _believe Quinn got pregnant from a hot tub, even though it was only a scare. And a lie._

"I, uh, kinda have to talk to you. If you have time. Do you… have time?" Finn asked timidly.

Kurt nodded reluctantly and gestured to one of his hanging chairs, inviting him to sit. Finn threw himself into the egg shaped contraption and immediately began to spin in circles. The mix of shock and anxiety on Finn's face had Kurt hiding his smirk behind his hand with a fake cough. Finally righting himself, Finn faced Kurt solemnly. Kurt's heart immediately plummeted into his stomach.

"I-I know it's not really your thing, cos it's messy or whatever, but…" Finn stopped, words sticking in his throat. Finn wasn't exactly eloquent by any means, but his inability to communicate was worrying Kurt. Finn may not express himself _well_ , but he had never had this much trouble in the past.

"What is it, Finn? What's wrong?" Kurt asked, hoping to spur Finn on. The longer this conversation went on, the more nauseated he became. Why did he feel like no good could come of this?

"Ineedyoutojoinfootballagain!" Finn all but yelled.

 _What? Football? Surely not…_ _And… why?_ Did Finn not remember the animosity between him and the other players? More importantly, did Finn even know what animosity meant? "Did you just say… you _need_ me to join football again?"

"Yeah," Finn breathed out in relief. He smiled that stupid, attractive smile like he had already gotten what he wanted, just because he asked.

A tidal wave of emotion (rage) swept over Kurt. He felt his eyes tear up in response. Good. Tears were one of Finn's many weaknesses. "How could- why would you even ask me that? Do you remember what happened last year?"

Finn's peaceful yet victorious face crumpled. He hadn't imagined this conversation going this way. In his head, he asked, Kurt agreed after bitching at him for a little bit, and then the team had an awesome kicker, ensuring a championship game for him. Maybe he should have thought this through more…

Kurt felt a tear make its way down his (flawless) cheek. He huffed in annoyance. He could see the play of emotions on Finn's face, and _yes_ , maybe he _should_ have thought about this more.

"I just- I, um, well. You're just a really good kicker. Since you left the team, we haven't won a single game. I know the guys gave you a hard time, but couldn't you just… try?"

Kurt was all set to shoot him down with the fury of a diva scorned, but the Finn unknowingly pulled out the big guns when he said, "I mean, you even said that you were glad you and Burt had something to talk about."

Kurt was brought up short. How was it that Finn knew exactly where to hit? The lack of things in common with his father was a real concern of Kurt's, especially with Finn coming into their lives. Kurt was worried that after his father had forgiven/forgotten Finn's indiscretion in the basement, he would be replaced. He knew that is wasn't easy on his dad, having a gay son. The phone calls, the pranks, they all took their toll. If Burt had a son like Finn, this wouldn't happen.

But he went the football route, and it was hell on him. His father had been proud of him when New Directions had won Regionals; he'd given him a hug and said he was great, then given him permission to use the house for a party, but it was nothing compared to the look of pride in his father's eyes when he kicked that winning field goal. Kurt knew he was being foolish, but he wanted to see that look in his father's eyes more often. Burt's love wasn't conditional, but Kurt felt like he should do more to deserve it.

Kurt ran his hands through his hair in frustration, a nervous gesture he rarely indulged in. Kurt briefly considered the Cheerios, but that would only result in more of the same; more bullying, more phone calls, more crying in his room while pretending he couldn't hear his father banging around upstairs. In the end, the decision was simple.

Yes.

A few hours later, after Carole and Finn had gone to their home across town and Kurt climbed the stairs of his room and began searching for his father. His search was short-lived as it seemed his father had yet to move from the couch. Burt looked up at the sound of his son entering the room and offered him a gentle smile. He patted the couch next to him and waited for Kurt to take him up on his offer.

Kurt cuddled up to his father and glanced at the TV. _Deadliest Catch, of course_. For a while, he just sits quietly with his father, reveling in the ability to do so. He was glad his father didn't listen to his family when they said that allowing these types of behaviors were what contributed to his "strangeness". The fact that his father had chosen him over them was still filled Kurt with bittersweet joy. He was glad his father loved and accepted him, but he knew his father missed his sister, regardless of the fact that she had become a religious homophobe after meeting her current husband.

Kurt debated how to bring up the topic of football camp with his father. He was certain he wouldn't have trouble getting his father to agree, but he would have a hard time convincing his father it was something really wanted, not just doing to make him happy. Even though that was exactly what he was doing. Heck, he should just dive into it; he did his best thinking of the cuff.

"Hey, Dad?" he whispered softly, in case Burt had fallen asleep.

"What's up, Bambi?" he replied tenderly. Burt relished in the fact that Kurt had never got too old or too cool for hanging with his old man. He took a chance and gently speared his fingers into his son's hair. Kurt just leaned into his father's side a bit more and sighed quietly. Resting his head on top of Kurt's he waited for his son to speak his mind. Kurt was careful with his words, rarely saying anything he didn't mean, so he was used to such a pause in conversation.

"I was thinking… of giving football another try. What, ah, what do you think of that?"

"I think… that maybe you aren't trying it for the right reasons," Burt said uncertainly. He had been on the receiving end of some intense rants about the cons of football and horrors of stirrup pants. Burt waited patiently for Kurt's inevitable rebuttal.

Kurt wracked his brain for a way to convince his father this was what he really wanted. _Something, anything. Wait! Didn't I hear Finn complaining to Puck over the new female coach?_ Kurt decided to go for it, since it was all he had.

"They have a new coach, a woman. Coach Beiste. I know things were pretty rough last year, but I figure a woman would at least know what it's like to be a minority in the sports world. And as wonderful as the arts look on a college application, sports would make me seem even more well rounded," Kurt said. He decided to go for some honesty as well. "I would just try out for the Cheerios squad, but I really don't need to be harassed any more than I already am."

Burt sat up abruptly. "Are they still harassing you down there? I swear that principle needs to get control of his school. You just wait, that smug bastard what know what hit him when I'm done," Burt continued to grumble under his breath for a few minutes while Kurt secretly enjoyed his father's ire for his sake.

"Don't worry about it, Daddy. It's nothing I can't handle, but I don't want to invite trouble, you know? And it's only camp. If things don't look like they are going to work out by the end, I won't try out. Besides, it's a week away, plenty of time to brace myself," he joked weakly.

_More like talk myself out of it…_

Burt took a fortifying breath. "If you're sure, then I'm all for it. I just don't want you getting hurt. And I'm not talking about taking a hit on the field," Burt clarified.

"Thanks, Daddy," he said while giving his father a squeeze. "G'night."

"Night, son."

As Kurt descended the stairs to his room and comfortable bed, Kurt couldn't help but wish his father was a little less trusting. What kind of messed up teenage logic is that?

* * *

It was the last day before football camp and Sam felt sick. He wish he had the excuse of coming down with something, but he knew it was just nerves. This was the first day that Sam had really had to himself, had to think, and he was beginning to see that was a good idea.

During this past week Sam had been kept busy with Halo marathons and helping his mom in the yard. His father had asked him to come into the office one day, offering to pay him if he organized all the files in the office, so there was another day. Then there was the day he spent at Blaine's to keep him company while he had to babysit his sister because Nina had come down with the flu.

Sam sat staring at the kitchen table blankly, wishing his parent's were here to distract him. He briefly considered calling his mom, but he quickly trashed that idea. It was his parent's anniversary vacation and he didn't want to disturb them. They were both so busy he didn't like to begrudge them any time they had together. Once again, Sam sent up a prayer to whatever deity may be listening that he would find someone that would make him as happy as his parents made each other.

Sam would be alone for the week; his parent's left last night and would be flying back late next Saturday. Well, that's not exactly true. Sam wouldn't be alone; Blaine had pretty much told him he would be crashing at his house for the duration. Not that Sam minded. He wanted to spend as much time with Blaine as he could before he went to McKinley.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hedwig's theme from Harry Potter began to play from his cell phone, Blaine's personalized ringtone. Sam shook himself out of his thoughts and answered the phone.

"Hullo?" he said, voice cracking at the end. His voice always did this first thing in the morning, becoming rusty from disuse overnight. The real reason he sang in the shower was to make sure he didn't perpetually sound like a kid hitting puberty.

"…Hey," Blaine said solemnly.

Sam felt concern begin to creep into his consciousness. It was clear that something was wrong with is friend, but Sam wasn't sure what. The last time they had spoken (right before bed) Blaine had been excitedly telling him about the new piano his mother had bought for the drawing room. He knew it was better to let Blaine tell him in his own time, not attempt to pull it out of him.

"What's up?" Sam countered, giving Blaine the chance to open up. He heard Blaine sigh over the line and felt himself grow a bit more worried. Sam also couldn't help but be grateful for the distraction from his own dreary emotions, even though he was never happy to know his friends were upset.

"Can we- can we go somewhere to talk? I kinda have something I need to tell you…" Blaine mumbled.

"Of course. Did you need to take a shower or anything first? Where do you wanna meet?" Same asked.

"I'm all set. Can we go to Hattie's? I need some comfort food," Blaine requested.

"Sure thing, see you in a few," Sam replied.

Blaine hung up without further ado. Sam immediately began to worry. He grabbed R2 and swiftly hooked on his leash. Carrying him down the front steps on his hip, Sam tried to think of what could be bothering his friend. R2 finished his business and Sam raced back inside, making sure R2 had water before grabbing his keys and wallet.

He patted his pockets, checking to make sure he had everything before locking the door behind him and making his way to his Camaro. Unlocking his baby, Sam threw himself into the driver's seat, lifting up the center console to get his Aviator's. After making sure his mirrors were all adjusted correctly, he quickly (but safely) backed out of his long drive and began the familiar drive to Hattie's.

Sam arrived at Hattie's in record time, probably because he was up and out just after rush hour. He glanced at the clock on the dash to gauge the time.

_9:48_

Looking back up, he notice Blaine's car on the other side of the parking lot. Sam crinkled his forehead in thought as he exited his baby. He should have arrived well before Blaine, since he lived only twenty minutes away from his favorite eatery, while Blaine lived at least forty.

Sam locked his car using the keyless entry button on his keychain as he ambled up to the door. Once inside, he craned his neck, looking for Blaine's curly hair. Miss Alma must have spotted him because she made her way over to him with a subdued smile.

"Your friend's outside. Poor thing must be having a bad day, he's been here for over an hour," she said while pointing to the dejected form of his friend sitting at one of the outside benches. Sam hustled over to Blaine. _What the hell is going on?_

He wasn't one to push his friend to talk, but if Blaine didn't come clean really soon he was going to have to make an exception. Sam plopped onto the bench opposite his friend and tried to muster a bright smile. Tried being the operative word. He gave it up as a lost cause and just looked expectantly at Blaine.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were here when you called? I would gotten here faster," Sam questioned.

If possible, Blaine just looked more depressed. "I was hoping she wouldn't mention that…"

"Blaine, you're worrying me. What the heck is going on? Is- is everything alright?"

Blaine looked into his sweet tea like it held the answers he was searching for. After a long moment, he looked back into Sam's eyes. He was crying.

"My dad got offered a promotion," he said simply.

Sam was confused. This was generally a good thing, but he was sure that there was more to this than Blaine's father getting promoted. Nothing with Blaine's parents was ever simple.

Blaine's voice wobbled when he finally spoke. "It's in London. He wants to leave before Dalton starts up for the fall. With the whole family."

Sam was shocked. He was blind sighted. He had been expecting an illness or death in the family, maybe a breakup with a secret boyfriend, but not this. He had thought going to McKinley was going to throw a wrench in their bromance, but hanging out was going to be damn near impossible when Blaine was across the globe.

"And your mom is okay with this? Just- uprooting her whole family to go to a foreign country just because her husband was offered a ridiculous amount of money," Sam asked.

"So it would seem. She's already looking for houses and schools overseas. It appears that I am going to be a Londoner in a few short weeks," Blaine croaked.

Sam got up from his side of the bench and made his way over to Blaine. He slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Blaine melted into his embrace and wept silently into Sam's white shirt.

This wasn't how Sam anticipated his Sunday going.

* * *

After a while, Sam convinced Blaine to come home with him where they could talk about this in a more private location. They ordered some pancakes to go and began the journey back to Sam's house. Once they got there Sam set Blaine up in front of the big screen with a cup of coffee and as many pancakes as he could eat.

Sam went up to his room to change and grab Roman Holiday, one of Blaine's all time favorites, guaranteed to cheer him up, even if it was just a little bit. He hustled back downstairs with the movie and a pair of sweatpants for Blaine to change into.

Crossing through the living room, he tossed Blaine the sweats, going into the kitchen to grab himself a root beer. He set it down by the end table on his side of the couch before popping in the movie. He settled in with Blaine for some serious Hepburn therapy.

The afternoon waned and Blaine had cheered a bit. They spent most of it in silence, drawing comfort in each other's presence more than anything else. Eventually night fell and Blaine had to go home. His parents wanted his opinion on school over in London. From what Blaine could understand, they were thinking of sending both Blaine and Elaine to boarding schools in the southern part of England.

Sam hugged his best friend goodbye, hoping that this wasn't the last summer they had together. Finding a reason for Blaine to transfer to McKinley was the least of his concerns now. Sure, if things didn't work out and the Anderson's moved to London he would still have Wes and David, but it wouldn't be the same.

Sam sat on the couch for a while, listening to My Fair Lady's menu loop over and over. Now, at the end of the day, he kind of feels like an idiot for worrying about camp tomorrow. Before Sam knew it, it was ten o'clock.

Gathering up the blankets and movies, Sam made his way back to his room. Feeling lazy, he just threw everything in his arms on the floor. R2 had followed him upstairs, so Sam scooped him up placed him on the foot of his bed. Sam threw himself on the space next to him and idly stroked is silky fur.

Sam's iPhone rang, and under the circumstance he would have ignored it if it wasn't his mother's ringtone playing from his pocket (Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, The Nutcracker was his mom's favorite ballet). He rolled onto his side and fished his phone out of his pocket. Pressing answer, Sam accidentally fumbled the phone and it fell on his face.

"Ow!" he exclaimed.

He could hear his mother chuckling to herself on the line. "Well, hello to you too, Samuel," she teased.

"Hi, Mom," he sighed.

Patricia sensed her only child's dark mood instantly. "What is it, honey? Did something happen?"

"Blaine's dad got offered a job in London. They're moving before school starts up," he stated. He figured simplicity was best at this point. That, and he was just too upset to go into the details.

"Oh, Sammy. I'm so sorry," his mother cooed.

He tried to fight it, but the tears that he had been holding off all day finally won. He hadn't wanted to break down in front of Blaine, fearing he would upset the curly haired boy more, but now he couldn't seem to hold back.

"Shh, shh," Patricia soothed. "Honey, I wish we were there. Do you need us to come home?"

"No," Sam immediately replied. "No. You guys just enjoy your trip. It's not like there's anything you could do. I guess we'll talk about it when you get back." Sam quickly asked his mother about their accommodations, looking for a subject change. Sam figured he was in a denial of sorts right now, not wanting to accept the fact that, in a month's time, Blaine wouldn't just be a car ride away anymore.

Finally, his conversation with his mother drew to a close. "Goodnight, Mothership. Love you," he whispered. "Tell Dad I said the same."

"Goodnight, sweetie. Just… try to get some rest; you have camp in the morning. Remember, the check is on the fridge. We love you so very much," Patricia chimed.

Sam hung up the phone and turned onto his back. He really needed to get some rest. Regardless of the Blaine situation, if he wasn't at the top of his game (literally and figuratively), he was going to get his ass handed to him on the practice field.

* * *

Sam woke bright and early the next morning, though, judging from the state of the butterflies in his stomach, they had been awake much longer. He glanced over at his cell phone first things, a habit he was sure many teens had developed since cell phones were the new oxygen. The screen flashed _1 text message_.

It was from Blaine. Sam felt a spike of sadness, but willed it away. He clicked "open" on his phone. It was just one word.

 _Courage_.

How the hell was Blaine such a freaking poster child for teenage victories when his life was being turned inside-out? He sighed. Sam contemplated sending his usual response of "I bet you say that to all the boys" but thought better of it. Instead, he went with something a bit more serious.

_You too, man._

That done, Sam dragged himself out of bed and into a pair of black basketball shorts and an old red shirt from a vacation the family had taken to California. He figured he may as well try to blend in before they coach had them dress out in football gear.

He sped downstairs and made quick work of a bowl of cereal and a banana. He pocketed the check on the fridge after he put his bowl in the sink. After a quick trip outside for R2, Sam found himself on his way to the McKinley High football field.

He reached the school with only minimal confusion, his nerves making him miss a turn (or four). Even with those mishaps, Sam managed to arrive before most of the other guys. He glanced at the clock in the dashboard to check the time.

_7:32_

_Well, shit. I guess I should have checked the time before I sped out of the house. Guess I'll just wait for the rest of the guys to get and then follow them in._

Sam stepped out of his yellow Camaro and walked around to the back of the car. He perched on the trunk and just observed his new school. The thing he loved about early mornings and late nights were the lack of people. Sam loved to people watch, but he loved watching the world come alive and go to bed much more.

In his lazy inspection of McKinley, he noticed he wasn't the only one there a bit early, and from the looks of it this kid had been there a while. The other boy was on the far side of the lot, parked under a tree. He had the hatch on his SUV type car open and was sitting in the cargo area. He appeared to be staring at his phone intently.

Sam briefly debated whether or not he should approach the other kid, but in the end, curiosity won out. Well, he really started walking over there without conscious thought and the other teen spotted him so he was forced to just go with it.

Once he got close enough to really see the other teen, Sam had an irrational surge of panic. He was so _small_. Not like a midget, or whatever, but so delicate. _Please don't let me watch this kid get tackled to death. I'm really not in the mood to see someone die via steroid injected, crazy-big, hormonal teen._

Sam finally reached the far end of the lot, and the SUV turned out to be a Navigator. He wasn't familiar with that model, but he definitely recognized the Lincoln emblem. Sam kind of thought it was kind of funny that such a little guy had such a big car. Thoughts of overcompensating or maybe even using it like a shield swam in his head.

The other teens eyes came into focus and Sam had to work to keep a straight face. _Wow_ he thought breathlessly. _His eyes are like bluish-greenish-grayish awesomeness_. Sam had a flashback to his fantasy earlier this summer. He felt the familiar warmth pooling in his lower abdomen. _Not now, NOT NOW!_ He thought frantically. Getting a surprise boner was not the way to make a great first impression.

The slight teen looked at him expectantly, maybe even a bit fearfully. "Yes?" he asked .

"Um, hi. Are you here for the football training camp? Am I, ah, in the right place?" he questioned, rubbing the back of his head subconsciously. It was a nervous habit that he swore he picked up from his father, and it left him looking like he had some serious bed head.

"Indeed you are. Though you're here a bit early, the rest of the guys probably won't show up until a quarter past," he began. The other teen looked at him inquiringly, searching Sam's face for… something. His scrutiny was beginning to make Sam uncomfortable. Had he said something to offend him? As far as greetings go, Sam thought his was pretty neutral.

Trying to save the conversation, Sam figured he should introduce himself. "I'm Sam, I'll be starting McKinley in the fall," he said while holding his hand out. The fairer teen looked at his hand as though it was going to bite him before taking it gently. Sam clasped the boys delicate hand is his larger one and gave it a quick shake. He looked at the other boy in askance.

The petite teen looked perplexed by his expectant face. Finally, the silence grew too awkward for Sam and he decided to just ask. "And you name is…?"

The pale boy pressed a fine-boned hand to his now flushing cheek. "Sorry, I don't know where my manners are. I'm Kurt," he said bashfully. Sam couldn't help but admire the healthy blush on Kurt's skin and wondered idly how far down it went.

Sam mentally slapped himself. _Stop perving on some kid you just met, you sexual deviant! Who do you think you are you, Wes? Sheesh…_

"Nice to meet you," Sam said with a (hopefully not pervy) smile.

"You too," Kurt replied. He shook himself as is suddenly remembering something. The fair teen scooted over in the cargo area and gestured to the spot next to him inquiringly.

"Thanks," Sam said with a goofy grin. He eased himself into the Navigator and arranged himself so he was facing the other teen. He tried to ease up the Mr. Rodger's vibe he felt coming on. Wes and David had told him he came on a little strong. He thought it was friendly, but apparently it was creepy. Kurt copied his actions, moving so that he was facing Sam.

Kurt looked a bit bewildered by his presence, but smiled anyway before engaging him in conversation. "So, why are _you_ here at the wonderfully mediocre McKinley High so early?" he asked tartly.

Back to the hair rubbing. "I kinda have the habit of rushing when I'm nervous. I didn't check the time before I left…" he admitted bashfully. "What about you? If you don't mind me saying, it looks like you've been here for a while."

Kurt let out a self-depreciating chuckle. "I don't know," he mumbled. Then louder, "Making sure I don't chicken out, I suppose."

Sam looked at him with polite interest. He didn't know this Kurt kid… well, at all, and he really didn't want to pry. Kurt just smiled charmingly before continuing on.

"I don't know if you can tell," he began with a smirk, "but I football isn't really my thing. I'm trying something new, something… sporty." He shrugged and smiled sassily.

 _Hot_ Sam thought idly. _What the- STOP IT!_

"Anyway, you said you're new to McKinley. Did you used to play football at your old school?" Kurt inquired.

"No, actually. I went to Dalton and we didn't have a football team. The administrators said it was too violent and encouraged students to be aggressive," Sam rolled his eyes, clearly stating his opinion on the matter. "But I did play with some guys on the weekend. I'm still not sure if I am going to stick around for the tryouts."

"Hmm, well, I'm sure you'll do fine. Excuse me for saying so, but you seem to be the athletic type, unlike myself," Kurt said encouragingly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of more students and potential footballers. Sam scooted out of Kurt's car and waited for him so they could walk to the field together. Sam figured it was the polite thing to do.

Kurt closed the hatch on his Lincoln and looked taken aback when he turned around to find Sam waiting for him. "Oh," he said in surprise.

"I figured we could walk over together. Well, that, and I don't really know where I'm going," he joked.

Kurt smiled politely at him, but shook his head. Sam was confused. Had he misjudged the situation? He had thought they were getting along. Kurt looked around before placing a placating hand on his shoulder. The smaller teen worried his lip before looking into Sam's eyes and speaking in a serious tone.

"Listen, Sam, you seem really nice, so I am just going to put this out there. You're new here, you don't know how McKinley works yet," he said sadly. "If you want to have any chance at popularity or just don't want to be harassed for the rest of your high school year, listen to me. I know Dalton is a private school, and I imagine it has a strict stance on bullying. McKinley doesn't. My advice to you? Avoid the gay kid."

And with that, Kurt walked towards the field with his shoulders hunched in defeat. Sam was shocked. Not by Kurt's confession. Not to be fuel stereotypes or anything, but Sam could tell Kurt was gay from across the parking lot. From his designer workout clothes to his perfectly styled hair, Kurt screamed sophistication that most straight teens didn't posses.

As he watched Kurt's slender figure disappear in the crowd, Sam couldn't help but wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there it is! I'm sorry it took so long, but my arm has really been giving me a hard time.
> 
> I know, they only have a bit of time together in this chap, but I am going to backtrack a bit and do their encounter from Kurt's point of view in the next chapter as well as some more football camp. I know next to nothing about football, so apologies if I mess things up terribly.
> 
> Until next time! <3


	7. First Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, I am going to make an effort to shorten my author's notes so that we can get right into the story. Even though their relationship is going to progress slowly, don't fret, smut is on the way. I do believe its Kurt's turn to get his wank on :P
> 
> We'll see some Jesse and Puck in this chapter as well as some more Finn the rest of the New Directions gang.
> 
> Without further ado, I give you chapter seven!
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine. Le sigh.
> 
> WARNINGS: Some boy lovin', coarse language, homophobia, mild violence, etc.

The week before camp began Kurt was filled with a sense of foreboding. Since that night in his basement, he hadn't seen Finn all that much. It kind of stung that for all intents in purposes, it seemed Finn was avoiding him after getting what he wanted.

Kurt had considered backing out nearly every moment of every day, but it just wasn't worth having to explain the reasons to his dad. Strangely, he had found advice from an unlikely source. Since the day at the garage, Kurt and Jesse St. James had become quite close.

Kurt was glad to have a male friend that didn't recoil from his touch or treat him like a girl. Jesse seemed to be glad to have found someone that would be totally (if brutally) honest with him and not be in awe of his talent or magnificent hair.

Kurt had called Jesse first thing the next morning, ranting and raving about Finn's insensitivity and selfishness, not to mention his own foolishness for complying with his plea. After listening to Kurt fume for well over an hour, Jesse finally told Kurt to chill.

Yes, it sucked that Finn was to Golden Boy and that he could appear to do no wrong. And, yes, he totally asked Kurt to join the team again for completely selfish reason, but maybe it would be a good thing. Jesse knew Kurt disliked sports as soon as he saw him, but after hanging out with him, he knew Kurt had never really _tried_ them. Jesse had suggested that Kurt try a different sport, but Kurt felt like it was football or nothing.

Jesse had jokingly said he would make sure Mercedes didn't wear a ridiculous hat or whacked tights to his funeral. It was just what Kurt needed. He laughed and thanked him, telling him that he would have to watch Rachel as well; he refused to have a grieving, oversized toddler at his funeral. And no way in hell was anyone going to sing Amazing Grace, _Mercedes_. Then, they agreed to meet for coffee later in the week and that was that.

Kurt figured that since he was going to be spending the next two weeks up to his eyes in smelly, testosterone fueled boys he needed to get in a much girl time as he could. In one week he had gone to the spa with Quinn, gone over to Brittany's house for a much needed makeover, taken multiple retail therapy sessions with is favorite diva, Mercedes, and had a musical marathon with Rachel. Sadly, his goth-princess Tina was still away at Asian camp, though it appeared she had gotten herself a fine piece of eye/arm candy in Mike Chang. Get it, girl!

But Kurt couldn't help but feel jealous. It appeared that all of his friends were having great summer without him. Sure, he had an abundance of lady-time this week, but for the majority of the summer it hadn't been so. Meeting Jesse again had turned out to be a blessing, and he felt closer to his father than he had in years, but it wasn't the same.

He couldn't help but feel like he didn't belong. Not masculine enough for the guys of New Directions, not feminine enough for the girls. Being the only out kid in Lima, Ohio was a lonely label and it was starting to get to him. And the fact that no one could tell was depressing. Maybe his icy mask had been a little too believable?

Well, that wasn't completely true. His father noticed, but Kurt had taken to hiding in his basement pad to avoid any uncomfortable conversations, so perhaps he was also to blame. Kurt shook his head in exasperation. This train of thought wasn't productive.

Saturday night, Kurt was perched on his bed, staring unseeingly at the TV. A rerun of Project Runway was on but Kurt couldn't bring himself to get worked up about Christian's designs. Kurt's hair was pulled back from his face with a headband while he let the sulfur masque he applied dry. During one of his shopping trips he and Mercedes had picked up some skincare for the athletic types. He may be sacrificing two weeks of his summer to this fool sport but that didn't mean he was going to sacrifice his flawless skin.

Lost in thought, Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone alarm went off. Etta James' _At Last_ serenaded him from his phone's place on his bed. Clicking off the alarm, Kurt walked to his en suite bathroom on autopilot. Taking his place in front of the sink, he adjusted the taps to get his desired temperature and proceeded to wash off this masque.

When Kurt finished washing the whitish paste off his face, Kurt stared at himself in the mirror. _You can do this. You_ can _do this. Don't think about it, just do it._ Kurt chanted this to himself a few times before rolling his eyes in disgust and slapping off the light switch and leaving his bathroom in a huff.

Kurt threw himself onto his low-lying bed and crossed his legs and arms in annoyance. He looked to the television and glared at Heidi Klum's perfect face. There were plenty of people he wanted to "auf" right now, starting with Finn for putting this fool idea in his head. He knew he should feel terrible for having fantasies about getting rid of people that annoyed him, but imaginary vengeance was just so satisfying even if it was far from noble. He'd leave the nobility for Prince Charming.

Kurt grabbed the remote to his flat screen and jammed the power button. Tossing the remote somewhere near the foot of the bed, he flopped backwards onto his new linens (dove grey Egyptian cotton, thank you very much). He stared at his ceiling for a long moment before searching blindly for his cell phone with his hand. His fingers encountered the cool metal and Kurt pulled it up to his face.

He scrolled through his contacts before decided to text Jesse St. Jabberjaws. Sheesh, that kid (guy) could talk. Maybe he would be able to keep Kurt's mind off his impending doom.

_Hey St. Opinionated, what are you up to this lame July night?_

Kurt didn't have to wait long before his phone pinged with a response.

_Hummbelina, isn't it past your bedtime? You know you want to look your best for all those hot-blooded boys tomorrow._

Kurt felt a smile stretch over his freshly washed face. This was just what he needed.

_Oh, please. I'm more concerned with a guys IQ count that their sperm count. And you never answered my question._

Kurt could feel his spirits rising. In a better mood, he fished for the remote and turned on Project Runway again. Before he could really get into the fashion show, his phone beeped at him again.

_You keep telling yourself that, Princess. Maybe one day it'll be true. As for me, I'm pretending to listen to my mother tell me about some baby shower she attended. Trade?_

He rolled his eyes fondly. During one of their many talks, Kurt had found out that Jesse's mom was a professional socialite. Queen of Formal Brunch and Empress of Event Planning, and she _loved_ talking about herself. She didn't really need a willing participant, anyone that could nod and smile would do. Kurt had been subjected to this treatment the one time he visited Jesse at his house (manor) and his mother expounded on the benefits of chaise lounges for forty-five minutes.

_I may be bored with Project Runway, but I'm not a masochist. No thanks._

Kurt hit send and turned his attention back to the TV. A few moments went by before Jesse sent back a response.

_Pretend to be bored all you want, Skurt, I know you're actually shaking in your designer boots. Relax, take something to help you sleep, and call me in the morning._

Kurt briefly lamented the fact the Jesse had been such a royal ass to the rest of New Directions. As much as Kurt secretly wished he could have egged Rachel Berry many a time, it would be so much easier to have his friends get along. Even thought Jesse and Kurt had only recently become reacquainted, he was swiftly becoming one of the best friends he'd ever had. Mercedes was his girl, but it was nice to have a guy to go to.

_Damn you and your psychic powers. I shall take your advice and Benadryl myself to sleep. I blame you if I over sleep, St. Jerkface._

The response was immediate.

_Goodnight, Hummel._

Kurt sent back a brief goodnight before plugging his iPhone into the charger and getting comfortable for the night. Turns out, he didn't need that Benadryl after all.

* * *

Kurt jolted awake at seven minutes past six o'clock. He looked around for what may have caused him to wake so abruptly, so early. Scanning his room, Kurt could only come to the conclusion that his neurosis had awoken him this early in the morning so that he had plenty of time to mentally berate himself for his idiocy. But it was too late to turn back now.

Sighing, he threw off the covers and forced himself out of bed. He didn't bother showering, since he was only going to get covered in sweat and Gucci knows what else. At least Kurt could make stirrup pants look good. Ambling over to his closet, Kurt changed into a pair of dark green basketball shorts (bought on his father's recommendation, since he had never purchased real sport clothes) and a plain white t-shirt with a deep v-neck.

Grabbing a pair of socks and his old running shoes (he had a brief fling with running, completely unrelated to the cute boy that starting mowing the lawn down the street). He carried them up the stairs and put them on in the kitchen. Kurt decided to indulge himself this morning and make himself a mango-yogurt smoothie with an egg white breakfast burrito.

Kurt searched under the counter for the Magic Bullet Burt had insisted he buy. Kurt wasn't really an early riser, but Burt said the blender was too noisy for the mornings. Quickly adding the ingredients to the cup, he placed it on the motor and hit blend. While it was puréeing, Kurt readied his burrito. Sipping on his smoothie while preparing the burrito, he allowed himself to think about the day ahead.

Football. Being stuck with homophobic teenagers until two o'clock. Kurt sent a quick plea to anyone that _may_ be listening. _Please don't let this turn into a bloodbath. Please, let me and my flawless skin survive another day_.

Burrito finished, he sat at the table and tried to savor it but the knots in his stomach made it impossible. Frowning at the waste, Kurt tossed his mostly uneaten breakfast into the garbage bin. He leaned against the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. _This is going to be a long day_ he thought morosely.

To his great surprise, his father padded into the kitchen looking equally surprised to see him. Burt squinted at the clock on the stove, discovering the time to be 6:32in the morning. He looked back to his son with a question on his face.

"Couldn't sleep," Kurt answered simply.

Burt nodded in understanding. "You never could, if there was something important the next day. Even from a little boy, you worried yourself into insomnia. Did you sleep at all last night, Bambi?" Burt asked.

"I did, I just woke up early for some reason. Barely half an hour ago, actually," he said to placate his father. "I made myself a smoothie. I made myself a burrito, too, but I had an upset stomach."

Burt sighed and looked at his only child. "Son, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. It isn't too late to back out. I won't be disappointed or upset or anything else you're worrying about. I _know_ you aren't a quitter, and you _don't_ need to join football to make me proud. I love you, Kurtie," his father finished quietly.

Kurt's heart swelled. His dad had said exactly the right things, and Kurt almost took this opportunity to bail on testosterone camp, or whatever. But he had agreed to this, and he _wasn't_ a quitter. He may not stick around for auditions ( _tryouts,_ he mentally stressed) but he was going to see this through. If anything it would help him lose those few pesky pounds he had gained from Aunt Maggie's amazing baking. Silver lining, right?

"Don't worry about me, Daddy. I'll be _fine_. Finn is there, and the rest of the New directions guys. Even if we don't get along all the time, at least I know people," he soothed.

"I just worry about you Kurt. Don't get defensive about this, but you're just… so little. I'm afraid you may get hurt. And that waiver I had to sign didn't help any," he fretted.

Kurt could sense Burt going into full Papa Bear mode and knew he needed to get out of there. Kurt may be as adorable as a baby panda and have puppy eyes and to help him get his way, but his father had Distraught Daddy Syndrome, and it worked just as well.

He stepped up behind his father and kissed him on his balding head. "Please, don't stress so much. If it makes you feel better, I promise to call you as soon as we get our lunch break, around eleven. Alright?" he appeased.

"I'll be waiting, Bambi. Love you," he said.

"Love you too, Dad," Kurt replied. Giving his father on last fond pat, he made his way to the door.

Grabbing his sunglasses out of the basket near the door, he placed them on his head a grabbed his keys. Having mailed his check in a week ago, Kurt was ready to go. He had already packed a bag with toiletries and a change of clothes and put it by the door last night before he turned in. Kurt shouldered the bag and made his way out to his baby.

Emmy sat in the driveway, pristine and gleaming. He had washed her yesterday, a pastime he used to calm his nerves. The methodical motions of washing his Lincoln help him to relax; he liked to take care of things he loved, be it people or machines. Kurt trailed his fingertips over the glossy black paint as he made his way to the back of the SUV. Lifting the hatch, he (gently) tossed the Louis Vuitton bag into the trunk and before closing the hatch and clambering into the driver's seat.

Jesse had jokingly bought him a step stool to help him get into the large car. Kurt wasn't a fool; he could see the irony in such a delicate boy owning such a huge car. He had lightly tapped Jesse over the head with it, and then tossed it into the trunk where it still sat. He actually used it to wash his baby yesterday, but Jesse didn't need to know that.

Jesse. Shoot, he was supposed to call him. Kurt glanced at the time.

_6:48_

Even though Kurt knew he would be awake (Jesse was a morning runner), he decided to wait until he reached the school, not wanting to be lectured on the dangers of driving and talking by one Rachel Berry. It's like she had eyes _everywhere_. Kurt suspected Finn may also have something to do with the fact that Rachel seemed to know everything about everyone while not actually being popular. Well, that and the deplorable Israel kid. Kurt was convinced that there was more going on there than meets the eye. The both of them were both such annoying busybodies that they must collaborate somehow.

Kurt pulled into the familiar parking lot of McKinley high school. In hopes of not meeting the dumpster during the summer, Kurt parked on the far side of the lot. It was also shaded, which was a plus. His car wouldn't be molten lava hot when he returned for his torture on the field. Truth be told, Kurt wasn't dreading practice as much as he was dreading the locker room.

But enough of that train of thought for now. Kurt brought the Navigator to a halt and put it in park. He took a cursory look around the parking lot. It was only a few minutes after seven o'clock, so it was no surprise he was alone. Gingerly stepping out of his car, Kurt walked around to the back and lifted the hatch.

After staring at his designer duffel bag for a moment, he decided to wait in the cargo area of his baby. He climbed into the back and arranged himself comfortably. Taking his iPhone out of his pocket, Kurt quickly shot Jesse a text.

_I'm already sitting in McKinley's parking lot. What the hell is wrong with me?_

Kurt leaned back and rested his head on his bag. Quickly getting frustrated by the bags stiffness, he sat up with a growl. Before he could grumble more, Jesse had replied to his text.

_Oh, Kurtsey, you need to stop doing this to yourself. Don't you know stress causes wrinkles?_

Kurt laughed humorlessly (wrinkles weren't funny, okay?) and quickly replied.

_Hold your tongue, St. Jewfro! There isn't one wrinkle on my fine face. Hurumph._

Jesse's response was swift and predictable. Well, the first part.

_Lay off the hair, Princess. You're just jealous. Now just lay back, think of Ohio, and prepare to be mind fucked._

Kurt looked at the last text with a mix of amusement and horror. Sometimes Jesse could be so crass, even though he secretly loved it.

 _?_ Kurt replied to the text.

_You're wearing a white tee with a V-neck, deep green basketball shorts, and those shoes you used twice this summer._

Kurt was speechless, well, perhaps thoughtless is a better description. _How in the world…?_ He mused.

 _Are you… here?_ Kurt texted back while looking for Jesse's well-groomed head. Nothing. Kurt phone pinged and he raced to open it.

_Haha, chill sassypants. I just happened to drive by your house this morning on the way to a new trail when you were putting your giant handbag in your Navigator._

Kurt huffed in annoyance.

 _It's a duffel bag!_ He texted viciously. This had been a major debate between the two of them, discussing the line of femininity and masculinity. Kurt said he walked it gracefully while Jesse said Kurt blatantly disregarded it, but in an adorable way. Jesse's response arrived.

_Keep telling yourself that. Now, be safe. I just got you so you aren't allowed to die yet. Watch for the ones with no necks, that means steroids._

Kurt read between the lines and saw the concern there. He smiled, possibly for the last time that day, and sent out one last response.

_Noted. Don't fall off a cliff, you hear? I don't look good in search party attire. Butch Kurt isn't making a comeback anytime soon._

Kurt heaved another massive sigh and looked around the parking lot once more, only to be surprised. It was just half past seven, so he wasn't expecting to see anyone else in the lot. It seemed Kurt wasn't the only one that was nervous this morning. He was leaning against the hood of a bright yellow Camaro, the same one from the Transformers series if he wasn't mistaken.

 _Mmm_ Kurt thought idly. He couldn't see the other teen that well, but he looked athletic and blond and he had a hot car. _Very nice._

He had looked up as the tan teen appeared to be debating on whether to approach him or not. For a moment the blond teen looked frightened before finally making his way over to Kurt's car.

As he approached, Kurt surreptitiously admired the boy's muscular form and fine-boned features. Kurt didn't recognize this Adonis but he could only hope that he didn't end up in the dumpster because of him. His "guns" _were_ rather impressive.

The other, taller teen reached his end of the parking lot and stopped just before the back of his baby. And stayed there. Silently.

 _Awkward…_ Kurt thought uncomfortably. Since a response didn't seem to be forthcoming, Kurt said, "Yes?"

"Um, hi. Are you here for the football training camp? Am I, ah, in the right place?" he questioned, rubbing the back of his head subconsciously. Kurt usually found such gestures annoying but it was endearing on someone so… well-built. Maybe it was adorable irony?

Whatever it was, he was definitely new if he wasn't sure where the camp was being held. The boy kept rubbing his hair until it was delightfully mussed and Kurt decided to take pity on him.

"Indeed you are. Though you're here a bit early, the rest of the guys probably won't show up until a quarter past," he stated. He expected the other teen to return to his car after he got the answer he was searching for. The boy may be new, but he clearly wasn't blind. Kurt was as fabulous as ever, even in… casual clothes. He shuddered at the thought. It wasn't often guys were around him willingly. He stared at the other boy searchingly, trying to figure out what his motivation for approaching him could be.

The tanned teen cleared his throat before extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Sam, I'll be starting McKinley in the fall," he declared. For a long moment, Kurt stared at Sam's hand in confusion. This… didn't usually happen. You know, seemingly heterosexual guys willing to socialize politely with him in public. Kurt decided to throw caution to the wind and slowly reached out to shake his hand.

After being greeted like a person for the first time in a depressingly long time, Kurt couldn't help but let his confusion show on his face. _Is he… for real?_ Kurt was so lost in thought he almost missed Sam's question.

"And your name is…?"

The smaller teen pressed a fine-boned hand to his now flushing cheek. "Sorry, I don't know where my manners are. I'm Kurt," he said bashfully. He may be confused, but his father raised him right. Kurt felt guilty for his apparent lack of manners when presented with a handsome yet confusing specimen on the male species

"Nice to meet you," Sam said with a sweet smile.

Kurt felt the familiar fluttering of warmth in his chest. _No!_ he chided himself. _You can't crush on a straight jock again!_ Then he realized a response was necessary. "You too," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as awed as he felt. He shook himself out of this destructive thought pattern. He decided to take a risk and offer the Sam a place to wait out the other footballers.

The fairer teen scooted over in the cargo area and gestured to the spot next to him inquiringly. "Thanks," Sam beamed while easing himself on Kurt's Navigator. Kurt moved his bag to the side and copied Sam's posture, facing him in the back of his spacious Navigator. Kurt couldn't help but feel that this was all some sort of cosmic mistake and that he should brace himself for the fallout.

Deciding to accept the hand he was dealt, Kurt decided to take advantage of this moment. Hey, he had a gorgeous, green-eyed, god in the cargo bed of his car; this was kind of a fantasy of his. Kurt continued to look a bit bewildered by his presence, but smiled anyway before engaging him in conversation. "So, why are _you_ here at the wonderfully mediocre McKinley High so early?" he asked with a tart inflection to his voice.

_Turn off the defense (bitch) mechanism, Kurt. He hasn't done anything yet._

And then they were back to the charming hair rubbing. "I kinda have the habit of rushing when I'm nervous. I didn't check the time before I left…" he admitted bashfully. "What about you? If you don't mind me saying, it looks like you've been here for a while."

Kurt let out a self-depreciating chuckle. "I don't know," he mumbled. Then louder, "Making sure I don't chicken out, I suppose." _Ugh, tell him your life story, why don't you_ he snarked to himself. Sam just looked at him with polite interest.

Kurt just smiled charmingly before continuing on. "I don't know if you can tell," he began with a smirk, "but football isn't really my thing. I'm trying something new, something… sporty." He shrugged and smiled sassily… he hoped. "Anyway, you said you're new to McKinley. Did you used to play football at your old school?" he inquired.

Sam took a deep breath before answering. "No, actually. I went to Dalton and we didn't have a football team. The administrators said it was too violent and encouraged students to be aggressive," Sam rolled his eyes, clearly stating his opinion on the matter. "But I did play with some guys on the weekend. I'm still not sure if I am going to stick around for the tryouts."

 _Dalton, eh? Why in the world would he leave a private school to attend high school hell?_ Kurt put the matter out of his head as not worth considering and decided to not look into this Sam kid's words anymore than necessary. He didn't need to be hurt by a jock again.

"Hmm, well, I'm sure you'll do fine," Kurt said encouragingly. "Excuse me for saying so, but you seem to be the athletic type, unlike myself."

Kurt couldn't decide whether or not he was grateful for the fact that any further conversation was interrupted by the arrival more students. Sam looked up to see them and began to scoot out of his car. He hung his head, gathering up his bag and trying not to let it affect him. _I knew it. There was no other reason for him to sit with me except a lack of suitable, masculine company._

Wiggling out of his baby, Kurt shouldered his bag once more and stood on his tip-toes to grasp the hatch and close it firmly. He turned around and was shocked to discover that Sam was standing there, waiting for him.

"Oh," he exclaimed.

"I figured we could walk over together. Well, that, and I don't really know where I'm going," he joked.

All at once, Kurt felt sorry for him. He was _genuinely_ a nice guy that didn't realize that being gay or associating with a gay (pretty much just Kurt) was like having the plague at McKinley. Kurt smiled politely at him, but shook his head. He looked around before placing a placating hand on his shoulder. The smaller teen worried his lip before looking into Sam's eyes and speaking in a serious tone.

"Listen, Sam, you seem really nice, so I am just going to put this out there. You're new here, you don't know how McKinley works yet," he said sadly. "If you want to have any chance at popularity or just don't want to be harassed for the rest of your high school career, listen to me. I know Dalton is a private school, and I imagine it has a strict stance on bullying. McKinley doesn't. My advice to you? Avoid the gay kid."

With a final glace at Sam's bewildered yet handsome face, Kurt slumped over to unwashed masses and made his way to the field.

 _Life isn't fair_ Kurt thought bitterly.

* * *

Kurt was in hell, he was sure of it. He was surrounded by at least one hundred of his peers, all huge, all angered by his presence, he could just feel it. When the majority of the guys realized he was here for football camp and not Cheerios camp, the tension in the air became palpable. David Karofsky sent him a few particularly vicious glares.

 _I may have made a huge mistake_ Kurt mused. The animosity on the field was intense, and while it was clear he was the source, it was focused on the perpetually confused Finn. For now. Kurt strained to try to hear what was being said on the other side of the grouping.

"Dude!" began Azimio. "What the hell is he doing here?" He pointed to Kurt angrily.

"I thought we made it clear we didn't want that faggot anywhere near our field. I ain't doing no gay-ass dancin' again!" Karofsky spat.

Kurt's stomach dropped. _I may have made a_ catastrophic _mistake, actually…_ He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, desperate for the new Coach to get there before this escalated. Kurt realized Finn was about to speak and he held his breath.

"Well, yeah, man, but we need a kicker since the one that took over after Kurt had a mental breakdown."

 _Wait, what? Did he just… agree with them?_ Kurt felt his eyes stinging and tried to will away the tears. And then to his immense surprise, someone stood up for him.

"Get the fuck over it, guys. I don't know if you remember this, but the game with the 'gay-ass dancing' was the _only_ game we won. Lay off the kid, alright?"

Kurt gave up trying to be subtle about his eavesdropping. He craned his neck, trying to see who had defended him. Finally, someone muscled their way through the wall of pissed off teenage boys. Someone with a mohawk.

_Puck? Noah Puckerman? Sweet Versace, what the hell is going on?_

Puck came over and stood near him. Kurt didn't even try to conceal the shock on his face as he looked at the self-proclaimed "sex shark". Sure, after joining glee club he had stopped with the dumpster tosses and slushy facials, but he hadn't exactly made nice with any of the gleeks.

Puck noticed his scrutiny right away. He leaned into Kurt and said, "Ignore them, especially Finn. He has chronic head-in-ass disease."

That surprised a laugh out of Kurt. It looked like Puck was going to say something else, but it was cut short by the arrival of Coach Beiste. Kurt couldn't help but think that she was his exact opposite, immediately felt some companionship with her. She was a masculine woman where he was feminine guy. They both had hard lots in life, and Kurt determined to take to his with grace and verve. Before he could lose himself in his musings, Coach Beiste called camp to order.

"Listen up, you termites!" she began. Kurt couldn't help but feel that this was going to be one interesting day. She had an aggressive, authoritative tone that had Kurt worrying about his fate during this two-week long stint in sport hell.

Kurt tuned back in to her speech (rant) just in time for him to hear Coach Beiste directing them to get in line for warm-ups. Kurt felt the butterflies return full force and a fine tremor go through his body. Unlike in glee club, Kurt immediately made for the back of the group, hoping to be unnoticed.

Swiftly taking his spot, Kurt stared a hole into the intensely green and well manicured grass of the field. He could feel two players take position on either side of him. He glanced to his left: Puck. _Hrmm, I'll have to analyze this later._ Kurt chanced a glace to his right, expecting to see a guilty looking Finn. Instead, he found the gorgeous teen from earlier, Sam. _This kid is either an idiot or a glutton for punishment._

Kurt decided to wait to wait for further instructions in silence. You can't make an idiot of yourself if you don't talk, right? Coach Beiste cleared her throat loudly and got the attention of the camp. Kurt thought that she had one tough job ahead of her; he knew it would take a while before most of these Neanderthals would accept a female coach.

"Congratulations," she shouted. "Take a look around. This is your assigned spot for warm-ups for the next two weeks. Get to know your neighbors; a team can't work without respect. You don't have to like each other, but you _will_ respect each other or I'll run you until a donkey cries for help!"

After that there was a collective feeling of _What?_ in the air. He risked a glance and blond newbie and saw that he was just as perplexed as the rest of them. Puck just looked bored. Coach began roll, Kurt dutifully crying "here" once his name was called to a chorus of chuckles and grumbling. Kurt noticed Dave Karofsky staring at him from across the field with a strange glint in his eye.

He shook it off and just looked to the head of the group of teens and saw Coach Beiste gesture for someone to run on the field. She gave a quick trill of her whistle to get the attention of everyone. Pointing at the guy in front she yelled, "Make like a cat and copy Johnson!"

As they began jumping jacks, Kurt couldn't help but feel he was in way over his head.

* * *

Kurt was pretty sure he was going to die. Actually, he was certain of it. When he wasn't running from 400 pound teenagers he was doing drill after drill. And it wasn't because he was exhausted, far from it. Kurt was surprised to find out that he was able to breeze through the physical stuff. No, Kurt was worried about the fact that this made the unwashed masses out for his blood.

The fact that Kurt was adept at something dubbed so "manly" really got on their nerves. Kurt had wanted the ground to open up and swallow him when Coach Beiste made him do the tire exercise thing over and over as an example for the other guys. He could feel the anger growing all day.

Now, it was time to break for lunch. They got an hour to cool down and eat the sandwiches and fruit that had been provided for them. Kurt took his turkey sub, fruit cup and bottle of water and made tracks for the far side of the bleachers. Most of the other teens had opted to eat standing up, loitering around the food like vultures. Apparently, leftovers were a hot commodity among the steroid set.

Perching on one of the middle rows that had managed to get some shade, he set his food down and _duffel bag_ down before fishing his phone out of the pocket. He sent a quick text to his dad, letting him know he had survived thus far and would be home as soon as camp was over. Kurt was already desperate to start cleansing his skin of the grime that he could feel settling into his pores and destroying his fabulous skin.

His phone beeped with his father's response.

_Make sur 2 come home in 1 piece love you._

Kurt shook his head at his father's texting skills. Burt's grammar hurt his soul. But it had been a battle to get his dad to start texting in the first place, so Kurt was counting his blessings. Placing his phone o n the bench next to him, Kurt unwrapped his sandwich with a grimace. He would rather bring his own lunch, but he figured eating his normal fare of organic wraps and salads would only isolate him from the rest of his peers further.

Kurt steeled himself and just took a bite. _Alright, not too bad_ he thought. He figured he'd save the fruit for last so that he has something to look forward to. As Kurt stared off into the distance, he felt someone joining him on the shady end of the bleachers. He looked over at his companion cautiously. Puck again.

_I must be in the Twilight Zone, that's the only explanation._

Puck was already halfway finished with is sandwich and just nodded his head in greeting. The curiosity was killing Kurt. What was with Puck? Was this some sort of an elaborate ploy to lull him into and false sense of security before pouncing on him and beating the sass out of him? Finally, Kurt couldn't stand it anymore and had to ask.

"Okay, Puckerman, what is this? Some sort of new way to torture the gay kid? I don't understand, last year you couldn't even be bothered to look at me, now it seems that you are _actively_ seeking my company," Kurt rushed out. "What- what the hell is going on?"

Puck sighed and finished chewing. After mumbling something that sounded like "knew it couldn't be that easy…" he put his sandwich down on the wrapper before turning to face Kurt more fully. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts, something Kurt hadn't expected. In the past, Puck had seemed like an "act first and think later" kind of guy. Puck looked up into Kurt's face and started explaining.

"Alright, here's the deal. After the whole shit that went down with Quinn, I did a lot of thinking. Sleeping with my best friend's girl was, like, the worst idea ever," he began. "I don't know why the hell I did that. I just- make fun of me all you want, but Puckzilla actually has feelings."

 _Third person nicknames, how charming_ Kurt thought.

"Finn always gets the girl, the trophy, the fame. I just took what I thought was my one opportunity to be with someone I thought I Ioved," Puck declared. Before Kurt could respond, he continued on. "I spent a lot of time thinking over the summer. This is probably tmi, but deal with it. When I was with Quinn, it was the best sex I ever had, and I have had a _lot_ , because it meant something. So I did a lot of thinking…"

At this, Puck lowered his voice and leaned toward Kurt. Kurt reciprocated the gesture, absolutely riveted. He could definitely understand the way Puck felt about the gigantic teen. Finn may not understand the blunders he constantly makes, but it was unfair that he so often go away with them. Puck began speaking again in a low and urgent whisper. "So I thought about love, and sex, and emotions and all that shit," he started.

 _Classy_ Kurt thought blankly.

"And I realized, it doesn't matter who you love, just that you do. Looking back, I didn't love Quinn, I loved the idea of her. Hot, smart, you know, perfect. But I didn't. I don't. And the more I think about it… the more I think…" he trailed off.

 _What, what did he think?_ Kurt was dying to know but he didn't want to push his luck. This new, emotional Puck could still kick his ass and wouldn't let someone question his "badassness". Finally, Kurt risked it and tried to move the confession along.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Bi. Dude, I'm totally bi. And I'm enough of a badass to admit it. I told Finn a few weeks ago and he got all weird. We haven't really hung out since. I don't think he's told anyone, and I don't plan on it either. But if I wanna bang a dude," and at this Kurt looked at his in exasperation. "Er, I mean, date a dude, I so will. I'm a stud, why limit myself to chicks?"

Kurt would have scoffed at Puck's logic until the last bit. From what he knew of Puck, that made total sense. But just in case…

"Alright, Puckerman, I'll believe you. For now. But if this just some way for you to get me comfortable with you and then cry about being sexually harassed by the gay kid, I won't be the only counter tenor in glee anymore," he threatened. At Puck's blank look, Kurt reiterated his threat. "You'll be singing soprano, Puck." Puck grimaced and nodded in understanding. The he suddenly looked panicked.

 _Was I really that threatening?_ he mused. Then Puck began speaking quickly.

"Er, not that I mean you! Uh, not that you aren't, like, hot or whatever. You are, like, in a girly, bendy, kind of way. You rock the hell of out of a pair of jeans. Uhh- Not that I look, or whatever. Er- shit!" Puck rambled.

Kurt laughed and decided to put Puck out of his misery. "Chill, Puck. I didn't think you were trying to pick me up. Besides, you aren't my type."

Puck looked offended. "Hey, Puckosaurus is everyone's type! Have you seen these guns?" He proudly displayed them, flexing his arms this way and that.

Kurt decided to test the waters, batting his eyelashes and fanning himself dramatically. "Very nice, indeed," he breathed.

Puck looked satisfied and went back to his sub. Kurt laughed and returned to his own sandwich. "You know, by hanging out with me, you are basically shouting your newfound sexuality to the entire team. I mean, they are a dumb as a box of rocks, but they seem to have an intensely honed gaydar. The more you're seen with me, the more they are going to suspect."

"Whatever, dude. I'm a badass, I can take them. It's not like anyone would be into their dumb asses." And for once, Kurt agreed with Puck wholeheartedly.

Kurt couldn't help but think about what he had said to Sam earlier. Instinctively, he searched for the blond Adonis in the crowd of boys. He spotted him easily and sighed. He was sitting with Finn, of course. Such a waste.

* * *

The rest of practice had been grueling. Even though Kurt was supposed to be doing drills for kickers, he managed to get knocked around a bit. Well, a lot. Even though he had managed to not be hit in the face, he was sporting quite the array of bruises over the rest of his body.

He stretched his sore muscles before picking up his bag and making his way to the locker rooms. As much as he wanted to get out of here he wasn't going to go near his baby like this. No way. As he passed Coach Beiste, he noticed the new teen and Finn engaged in deep conversation with her. Sam seemed to catch his eye as he passes and offered and weak smile. Kurt ducked his head and hustled to the showers.

Finally reaching the guys locker rooms, Kurt sighed in relief. He could almost feel the hot steam of the shower easing his sore muscles and washing off the dirt caked into his poor skin. However, before he could push open the heavy red door, a few bodies blocked his way.

"Where do you think you're going, fairy?" Karofsky sneered, pushing Kurt back.

Kurt was annoyed and dirty and _not_ in the mood for this right now. "Going to take a shower. Not all of us enjoy smelling like the animals you resemble," he spat. Wrong move. Azimio fisted a hand in his shirt (Kurt said a silent apology to the fine fabric) and pressed him forcefully against the wall. Kurt's legs hit the back of the benches that lined the walls outside the doors and he winced in pain.

"Watch your tone, _faggot_ , or we'll do it for you," he growled before throwing him onto the bench. Before Kurt could right himself, Karofsky, Azimio, and a few other guys crowded around him. Curling in on himself, he braced himself for a beating. But it never came. He chanced a look at the teens looming over him and waited to see their next move.

A football player Kurt didn't recognize spoke up. "We all talked it over, and we don't want you in the locker room when we're there. No way are you going to perv on us, _queer_. So keep out until we're done or go in the girls showers where you _belong_."

With one last shove, they disappeared into the locker room, presumably to shower and gloat about their victory over the gay kid. _Did that really just happen? Things like this happen on TV shows or in movies, not in real life._ Kurt, usually so quick to defend himself and people he loved, was silent.

Kurt slowly wrenched himself of the bench and retrieved his bag that had fallen on the floor during the brief scuffle. Even though Kurt had been pushed around before, this was on another level. Kurt felt tears fill his eyes again and desperately tried to hold them back. He refused to cry here when the homophobic haranguers could be back at any moment.

After a while, the locker room doors open and a mass of freshly washed bodies streamed out. Many ignored him, but a few glanced over at him with a victorious smirk on their face. Kurt sighed. Grabbing his bag, he waited for the last boy to exit the lockers before wearily pushing the doors open and making his way to the locker he had been assigned.

He noticed wasn't alone and experienced a brief moment of panic before he realized it was just Puck. As Noah picked up his own bag, he clapped Kurt's shoulder as he passed him and shook his head ruefully before he was gone.

Kurt felt a brief moment of resentment toward Puck, but quickly let it go. If Kurt had the opportunity to avoid this, he would take it. Yanking open his locker, Kurt half expected to find a pile of sweaty jockstraps or something equally disgusting waiting for him. Surprisingly, he was met with an empty locker. Shrugging, he stripped off quickly before wrapping a towel around his slim waist. He placed his soiled clothes in a large Ziploc bag and grabs his toiletries. Shutting his locker, Kurt made his way to the farthest stall and balances his shower caddy while adjusting the taps to get his desired temperature.

Finally pulling off his towel, he stepped under the warm spray and enjoyed the feeling of it running down his body. The tension slowly melted from his body and the warm water did wonders on his sore muscled. He knew he wouldn't be able to completely relax until he was able to take a bath later, but the immediate relief was wonderful.

Kurt grabbed his bath pouf and squeezed a generous amount of mango scented body wash onto before working it into a lather. Kurt closed his eyes and took his time running it over his aching muscles. He must have lost himself in the methodical action because he was suddenly jolted from his reverie by the sound of another shower sputtering to life.

Kurt imagined he looked like a scared woodland creature when he glanced over to the source of the noise. Low and behold, there stood Sam in all his tanned glory. Well, not all of it, it was partially obscured by the tiled privacy dividers, but what Kurt glimpsed was… well, glorious. His frantic movement caught Sam's eye and he looked over to Kurt with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Got held back by Coach Beiste," he said with a grin before turning back to his own shower.

Kurt nodded and forced his eyes to stare at the wall in front of him and not the gorgeous teen a few feet away. Sam didn't seem to have the same concerns. He cleared his throat, trying to get Kurt's attention. He slowly looked over to Sam, confused at the boy's apparent lack of concern with showering next to a gay kid.

"Um, sorry if I said something to offend you this morning…" he apologized uncertainly.

Kurt was floored. _Sorry_? He replayed the conversation he had with the blond teen over in his head and couldn't help but feel _he_ owed _Sam_ an apology, not the other way around. The kid clearly didn't get it.

"You didn't say anything offensive. Like I said, you're new, so you don't get it, but hanging out with me is kryptonite. _I'm_ not here because I was held back by the coach for a chat," he said with a wobble in his voice. "I'm showering so late because the other guys made it abundantly clear that I was _not_ welcome in the locker room."

Kurt turned in his stall, facing Sam and resting his forearms on the tiled separators. He shook he head sadly at the look if confusion on Sam's handsome face. "Look," he began consolingly. "You seem great, really nice. Heck, you may be the only guy that doesn't have a problem with me being gay. But being new here, it's going to be hard enough for you. These Neanderthals live on the prospect of fresh meat to tear into." Kurt was all set to rave into the next week but Sam interrupted with a little insight of his own.

"Then it's going to happen no matter what. I don't mean to push, but unless _you_ don't want to talk to me, I don't really care about the other guys. It's only been a day and I can tell these guys are a special kind of stupid," he said with a grin.

Kurt nodded absentmindedly. As Artie would say: _truth_! He shrugged dismissively and went back to rinsing the grime from his body and cleansing his hair. Shutting the taps off, Kurt wrung the water from his hair and wrapped his oversized towel around his waist. He swiftly passed the stall where Sam was still showering, eyes glued on the floor.

Reaching his locker, he quickly grabbed his boxer briefs and slid them on underneath the towel, wiggling to adjust. He pulled the towel from his waist and quickly wiped the excess water from his body. Kurt draped the towel over his damp hair. Taking his Louis Vuitton bag out of the locker, he placed it on the bench so he could rifle through it better.

Finding his skinny jeans, he slipped them on and swiftly did up the fly. He ran his hands down his thighs, smoothing out the denim. Kurt reached up and rubbed his hair to get out the excess moisture. He turned back to his bag to get out his shirt, only to encounter the sight of Sam in his boxers a few feet away. Flustered, Kurt clapped a hand over his eyes.

"Sheesh, can you move a little louder!" he exclaimed.

His shout made Sam jump and face Kurt more fully. Kurt chanced a look and discovered that Sam was rather… gifted by nature. At this point, Kurt wasn't sure he would ever stop blushing. This is so not what he needed.

"Erm, sorry?" Sam replied.

Kurt was instantly contrite. "No, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for; I was just surprised to see you there."

Sam smiled and went back to dressing. _Quite the smiley guy_ Kurt mused. Kurt pulled on his lavender colored button down and made quick work of the buttons. Sitting on the bench next to his bad, Kurt slipped socks onto his slender feet and jammed them into his gray leather loafers. As he laced up his shoes, he noticed that Sam was also sitting down and shoving his feet into some slip-on shoes with a wacky teal paisley print.

 _Hrmm, nice pop of color_ Kurt mused. _Maybe he_ doesn't _have a problem with the gays_.

Kurt did one last check to make sure he had remembered everything. Once he concluded he was leaving with everything he came with, he walked past Sam on the way out. He nodded to him politely and sashayed past him and out the door. As he walked across the field, Kurt couldn't help but dread tomorrow.

Once he reached the parking lot, Kurt quickly looked around to see if he was the only one left. Seeing only his baby and the Camaro in the parking lot, Kurt ran to this Navigator. It was childish but he didn't care.

All Kurt could think about was all the emotions of the day were catching up to him and it added up to a recipe for some serious crying and devouring a pint of fat free frozen yogurt. And a bubble bath.

* * *

"Kurt. Kurt, wake up," someone called. He could feel someone gently shaking his shoulder, pulling him from his slumber. "Kurt, you fell asleep on couch. I know you hate it when you do that."

Kurt finally opened his eyes to see his father's countenance in his line of vision. The last thing Kurt remembered was laying on the couch while he texted his father that he was home.

"What time is it?" Kurt mumbled sleepily.

"Almost six. I'm guessing practice was rough?" Burt asked.

Kurt laughed humorlessly. Rough was an understatement. He just smiled and motioned to his room. His father nodded in understanding and told him he would just fend for himself tonight and did Kurt want anything? Kurt shook his head and kissed his father's cheek on the way down to his room.

He was incredibly disoriented, sleeping this long. And he was _still_ tired. Kurt decided to forgo the intensive skincare regime for one night and opted for a bath instead. He trudged into his bathroom and leaned over the rim to turn on the water. His muscles screamed in protest. Kurt added some lavender scented bath oil to the water and moved to take off his clothes while he waited for the tub to fill.

Kurt stretched languorously. He ran a brush through his hair and felt the tingling sensations of the bristles ease the ache in his skull. Kurt turned back to his spa tub and lay in the rising water. He stretched his feet and wiggled his toes in pleasure. There wasn't much he loved more than a bubble bath.

As he lay in the rising water, Kurt felt a rush of relief sweep through his entire body as the water made his form weightless. As he felt the water lick chest, Kurt forced himself to lean forward and turn off the water. He reached behind his head and rearranged his bath pillow to support his neck more fully. Kurt sighed in contentment, a smile on his full lips.

As the hot water and cool air of the bathroom mixed, Kurt felt himself shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature. Normally, he would shrug of such desires when he was so beat, but as tired as his body was, his mind wouldn't relax. Maybe a little "somethin'-somethin'" would help him shut off.

Kurt let his hand travel the smooth planes of his body. Kurt took great pains to keep his body baby smooth, and moments like this were worth the effort. Kurt felt guilty, but he felt his mind wandering to Sam. It felt wrong to fantasize about a real person, especially one he just met. Kurt couldn't help the fact that, unlike Puck, Sam was _exactly_ his type.

Trying to put Sam's striking face out of his mind, Kurt trailed his fingers over his sides to stop at his nipples. He plucked and pinched the rosy discs, biting his lip at the spikes of pleasure that zinged through his body, settling at his groin.

Keeping one hand occupied caressing his chest, Kurt trailed its twin down his flat stomach. He sucked in a shuddering breath, the lavender bath oil mixing with the scent of sweat and filling his senses. Reaching his navel, Kurt pressed his fingers gently into the skin, massaging gently and then increasing the pressure. His toes curled in pleasure as he continued his sensual kneading.

When he could stand it no longer, Kurt's arm abandoned his sensitive chest and moved to cup his sac. The sensation was titillating. Gently rolling them in his hand, Kurt's hips began to rock back and forth to compliment the motion of his hand.

He ceased his pleasurable massage to his navel and moved to grasp the part of himself that was demanding his immediate attention. Biting his lip, Kurt heard a soft coo leave his mouth. He slowly moved his hand up and down the shaft, taking care to rub his thumb along the sensitive head. Unable to prolong this, Kurt let the hand cupping himself travel lower.

For a moment, Kurt let his fingers tease the skin between his sac and quivering opening. Arching his back into the waves of pleasure, Kurt could feel his pulse throb throughout his entire body. His labored breathing reached his ears, adding to the sense of urgency.

Finally, _finally,_ Kurt let his fingers slip into his cleft, rubbing his middle finger against his hole teasingly, not entering. Kurt was desperate for relief, unintentionally holding his breath in anticipation. Kurt pressed his fingers more firmly, reaching lower. The added pressure proved to be too much and Kurt felt the tension in his body snap like an archer releasing a bow.

With a strangled moan, Kurt spurted onto his quivering stomach. His body shook with the aftereffects of his release, coming down from his high in the cooling water. After a moment, Kurt grabbed the bath sponge and gently removed the evidence of his amorous activities.

Lifting up the drain, the water began to empty from the tub. Standing stiffly, Kurt reached for his towel and gently patted the water from his sensitized skin. He padded into his room and quickly slipped on a pair of cotton night shorts (no underwear, he was feeling scandalous tonight). He dropped his towel unceremoniously onto the floor and slid into the welcoming coolness of his sheets.

Sure, he had camp again tomorrow, and he was willing to bet that it was going to be hell, but as Kurt drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but smile optimistically. If this new student was as friendly as he seemed, maybe Sam could prove as a beautiful distraction. Kurt had definitely found his motivation for attending camp.


	8. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again, internet friends! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter and are enjoying the leisurely pace of the story. It's come to my attention that I may use some expressions that y'all may not be familiar with if you aren't from the south. One of my friends pointed this out to me, so I'm sorry if there was any confusion!
> 
> This chapter is going to be mostly Sam's POV with one or two scenes from Kurt's. I hope that no one seems too OOC, I try to stay as true to cannon as I can, but it's difficult (especially with Coach Beiste!). Expect some more football camp and some out of camp drama. There is also going to be a little Facebook action in this chapter (kind of an experiment), so forgiven any strange formatting.
> 
> Also, this is random, but I hadn't realized I made Blaine's sister's name rhyme with his own. Blaine and Elaine, nice job self.
> 
> I think that's it, so enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own glee, just my OC's
> 
> WARNINGS: Boys in love with boys, homophobia, language, mild violence, teenage angst.

Sam needed to think, and that meant one thing: _garden_. Sam's mom's garden may be her pride and joy (after Sam, of course), but Sam loved it even more than she did. He always thought it was the Southern boy in him that loved the soft buzzing of the insects in the plants, the soft perfume of the flowersm the heat of the late afternoon sun. It made it easier to think, to be surrounded by things so simple and yet so beautiful.

 _Like Kurt_ he thought idly. Sam couldn't help it, but he felt a pull towards the other teen. Outwardly, the teen put on a brave front, with his icy mask and sharp words, but his _eyes_. He had sad eyes. Sam had a thing for eyes, and it was a shame that such beautiful eyes held such sadness.

He was never naive, as much as he loved the idea of romance and soul mates, blah blah blah, he didn't really believe in love at first sight. It took a while to learn things about people, took a while to fall in love, and Sam was looking forward to that process with whomever he was meant for.

It just so happened that this delicate teen was the embodiment of his perfect guy. Even though Sam was bi, he always had a feeling he would end up with a guy. Sure, he was attracted to girls, _really_ attracted to girls, but it was hard for him to make an emotional connection with them. They just made him feel so… insecure.

Sam sighed and made snow angels in the grass. Grass angels? He relished in the silky feel of the blades on his exposed skin. He looked for R2 and found him snoozing near the gardenia bushes by his head. Sam melted a little. He was such a softy.

He quietly clicked his tongue and R2 sleepily peered at him. He woofed lazily and wiggled in reach of Sam's hand, silently demanding to be petted. Sam obliged, scratching under his chin.

Kurt's words kept coming back to him, over and over. How bad could McKinley truly be? Would he really be ostracized for associating with an openly gay teen? And not just one, but two. There was Blaine to consider.

Well, not for much longer. Sam's heart plummeted into his stomach. _One problem at a time…_

Back to Kurt. If they, meaning the other football kids, were willing to make his life hell for befriending the flamboyant boy, what would that mean for Kurt? Did they threaten him to make him stay out of the locker room? Hit him? Not that he was trying to perv ( _much)_ but the pale teen already had quite a few bruises on what skin he saw in the shower. How many were from bullying?

If it was as bad as it seemed, was he a terrible person for still wanting to find a way for Blaine to stay and go to McKinley with him? Probably. Sam rolled over onto his stomach, inhaling the scent of grass and soil. He smiled. Yeah, Southern boy.

He rested his head on his folded arms and attempted to clear his head. No such luck. Resigning himself to a thought-migraine, he picked up his canine companion and high-tailed it into the house. He'd left his phone inside to prevent distractions, so his first stop was the kitchen. Still cradling R2, he picked up his phone.

_2 missed calls_

There was one from Blaine, which wasn't unusual, but then there was one from his father, and that was. They were supposed to be vacationing, a no cell phone time. Sam felt a tingle of worry coil in his chest. He quickly pressed redial and placed the phone on speaker. Walking back and forth, he rocked R2 in his arms, soothing himself as much as his Frenchie puppy.

The longer the phone rang, the more anxious he became. Eventually, his father answered the phone with his customary "Hello, son". He sounded calm; Sam puffed out a breath in relief.

"Hey, Dad. What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing much, son, enjoying our vacation. Your mother wants to speak with you," and without further ado, the phone was handed to him mom. _That was… abrupt_.

"Hey, honey!" his mom chimed. "How was your first day of camp? Was it fun, did you make friends?"

Sam had a flashback to his first day of _every_ new school year. _Oh, Mom_. "It was fine, Mom. I got to know a few guys. We'll see,"

"Alright, well, we just wanted to check on you. Love you, sweetheart! Talk to you later!"

"Love you too.." and with that, she hung up.

_Strange…_

He exited the kitchen and plopped into one of the oversize chairs in the sitting area between the kitchen and the porch. Setting R2 on the floor so he could roam, Sam called Blaine back. He answered before the first ring had the chance to complete.

"Sam?" he said loudly.

_What was with people today?_

"Hey, B. I saw you called. Sorry, I was outside. What's going on, man?" he said.

"Um, you're supposed to come over for dinner tonight. My mom invited you… I- I think it might be important," he said, whispering the last part.

"Yeah, hey, no prob," he responded consolingly. He glanced to the clock on the cable box. 5:30, he could make it. The Anderson's had dinner at 7:30 every night, come hell or high water. "Just let me clean up and I'll be right over."

"See you soon," Blaine said in lieu of goodbye. He hung up before Sam could respond in kind. Shaking his head, Sam trotted up the stairs to get ready for dinner with the Andersons. He could only pray that he didn't end up putting his foot way up in his mouth like last time…

* * *

Pulling in to the Anderson's opulent driveway, Sam parked his Camaro as quickly as possible. Not bothering to lock the door (if a criminal made it past the Anderson's ridiculous gate, they deserved to have it), he climbed the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

After a moment, Nina, their housekeeper/nanny answered the door. She smiled at Sam warmly and hugged him in greeting.

"He's upstairs," she said simply.

Sam nodded in thanks and quickly climbed the stairs (well, as quickly as slacks and dress shoes allowed) and made his way to Blaine's room. Approaching the door, he could hear the sound of Blaine strumming on his acoustic guitar. Sam tentatively knocked on the door, enter when Blaine called it was open.

Blaine was sitting stiffly in his desk chair, lazily running his fingers up and down the neck of his guitar (Katy) and staring forlornly at the floor. At least he wasn't listening R.E.M., that's when Sam knew things were bad (it was Blaine's emo music).

Sitting on Blaine's full-sized bed, Sam nudged his friend with his foot. Blaine looked to Sam with unshed tears in his eyes.

 _Shit_.

Before Sam could comfort his friend, Mrs. Anderson's voice rang out over the intercom system in Blaine's room. "Dinner is ready, darlings. Be downstairs in 10 minutes!"

The difference between when Sam's mom called them pet names and when Blaine's mom did is that Patricia sounded sincere, Adele just sounded posh. Gesturing for Sam to wait a moment, Blaine excused himself to the bathroom to wash his face.

Sam paced around Blaine's room, taking in the boxes and piles of his friend's half-assed packing. It was evident that Blaine's heart wasn't in this move. Sam felt a twinge of anxiety at the prospect of his friend leaving.

Emerging from the bathroom, Blaine smiled weakly and gestured for his friend to precede him out the door. Without further prompt, Sam asked, "What the hell is going on, Blaine?"

His friend just shrugged. "I was looking through the mail today, and I think my mom is going to tell Elaine and me where we are going to school in the fall," he said sadly.

"Then why am I here?" Sam questioned.

"I think they think that I won't throw a fit if you're here. Soften the blow, or whatever," he drawled.

Sam wouldn't be so sure if he was them. Sam was fixing to have a fit at any moment. Before Sam could form an adequate response, they had reached the formal dining room. Where Sam's house was homey, despite its size, Blaine's felt impersonal and museum-like. He had often thought that the Anderson's treated their children like figurines; to display when important company was around or to be admired covetously every so often.

Blaine's father, Carey, was already seated imperiously at the head of the table, his wife perched daintily to his left. Carey and Adele married strictly for political advancement, each trying to elevate their social status. They had an amiably relationship and seemed to care for their children, even if they were unable to show it in conventional ways.

Elaine, Blaine's little sister way sitting next to her mother, swinging her tiny legs back and forth. Her mother laid a restraining hand against her thigh and the girl reddened and stop. Blaine took his place on his father's right and Sam next to him.

_Awkward…_

Formal dinners always made Sam so uncomfortable. What fork to use, what small talk to make, which way to pass the salt, it made his head spin. Sam could feel the beginnings of a headache start behind his eyes. _Ugh… I just got rid of the last one._

Carey looked to his wife and she gestured to the maids to start serving the first course. Dinner at the Anderson's was always a unique experience, half the time he wasn't sure what the hell he was eating; snails, eel, some strange animal's tongue? And what the hell was a canapé?

_This is probably why Blaine's pigs out all the time. Real people can't live on tiny fish eggs on toast._

Throughout dinner, there was little sound other than the clinking of silverware on the china and half-hearted compliments to Mrs. Anderson on the wonderful meal (that she didn't make). If Blaine sniffled once or twice throughout dinner, Sam politely didn't point it out.

The maid (whose name he didn't know because the Anderson's went through them so quickly) began to serve desert; a raspberry mousse trifle. _This_ Sam could get behind. Before any of them could begin, Sam's father cleared his throat to get the table's attention. Satisfied that everyone was listening, he nodded to his wife. Carey Anderson was a man of few words.

Adele's smiled her best social smile and looked to her children, and to Sam's surprise, him. Usually, Sam went unacknowledged by the Anderson's. Sam was fairly certain that if he didn't have well-to-do parents, Blaine would be forbidden to associate with him.

"As you know, you're father took the promotion he was offered in London, which means the family will be moving overseas soon," she began in her cloyingly sweet voice. Sam's tolerance of this woman was dwindling. "That means the two of you will be changing schools, since I have decided to follow your father for his work."

Blaine deflated in his seat and Sam felt his heart skip a beat. This was it…

"So, Elaine, this fall you will be attending Abbots Bromley School for Girls," Adele declared. Elaine looked pleased, as Sam knew she would be. Elaine had a fascination with England and was young enough that she would make new best friends in moments.

Then Mrs. Anderson turned to her son. She smiled, but it was a real smile, not the fake one usually present on her unusually young (read: botoxed) face. "Blaine, this fall…" she trailed off. Under the table, Blaine reached for Sam's hand and squeezed. "McKinley."

The confusion was palpable.

 _Wha?_ Sam and Blaine thought in tandem.

"Last week I received a concerned phone call from your mother, Sam. Apparently, Blaine confided in you his true feelings about moving to London, which you relayed to your mother. As your father and I didn't want you to attend school in the city, boarding school was the natural option. As your mother pointed out, what was the difference in sending you to a school in the South on England or having you attend school here?"

They two teens were gob smacked. Blaine's father rounded the table and clapped his son on the shoulder before leaving the room. Elaine asked to be excused to continue packing and flounced upstairs to her room.

Adele reached across the table and took her son's hand. Her eyes were uncharacteristically soft. "Blaine, dearheart," she began. "You should have come to me. I know that I may not show it, but I love you. I want you to be happy. So does your father. So when your parent's, Sam, offered to let Blaine stay with them, we saw no other options."

 _Wait, live with me?_ Sam thought incredulously. And then, _Awesome_.

"But you bet your behind you are coming to England for the Holidays, Blaine Anderson!" his mother mock-scolded. Patting her eyes with a lace handkerchief, Adele came around the table and kissed her son on the cheek. After a moment's hesitation, she bestowed one on Sam as well. "Thank you," she whispered.

The teens found themselves alone in the dining room, still reeling from shock. This explained his mother's cheerfulness earlier, and Sam couldn't help but be a little razzed she hadn't clued him in. No matter, Blaine was staying.

Letting out a whoop, Sam hugged Blaine enthusiastically. Blaine smiled at him incredulously, a massive smile splitting his face. "So," Sam began and he dug into his dessert. "What room do you want?"

* * *

Kurt had been at camp for a week and he wasn't adjusting as well as he'd hoped. The Neanderthals were just as hostile and Sam was just as confusing; though he was willing to be Finn wanted to use a different adjective to describe the handsome teen.

From what Kurt had been able to glean by shamelessly eavesdropping, the blond teen was giving him a run for his money. Coach Beiste was considering them both for the position of quarterback. Finn had thought he was just going to take back the reins without contest. He was mistaken.

Kurt, perhaps vindictively, thought it was about time Finn got knocked of his pedestal. And from what he could tell, the new kid had skills. He was being modest that first day, in the back of Kurt's Navigator.

But, all that aside, Kurt would have been able to deal with this if it wasn't for one thing: David Karofsky. Kurt had no idea what he had done to the aggressive teen, but he seemed the most insistent in his pursuit to make Kurt miserable. Maybe he was insanely homophobic? Maybe he was just a jerk. Whatever the reason, Kurt wasn't sure if he could take it much longer.

As he drove to camp, he tried to brace himself for the day's onslaught. Today marked the beginning of the second week of camp, and things were getting tenser. Coach Beiste had announced to the team that she planned to cut a great deal of them. Coach Tanaka may have been willing to have dozens of second stringers, but this new coach was not.

As Kurt pulled into his customary parking spot on the far side of the lot, he couldn't help but groan in irritation. He had left the house insanely early again. Finn had stayed the night and he could hear his snoring from where he crashed in the living room.

The plus side to leaving so early was that it gave him time to stop at the 24-hour coffee shop, Rendezvous. He sipped on his mocha frap and slowly strolled to the back of his car. Opening the hatch, Kurt sat in the cargo hold and laughed at the sense of déjà vu. Kurt stretched out sideways in his baby and carelessly played with the straw in his drink.

Kurt was startled out of his daydreaming by a rap on the side of his Lincoln. Speak of the devil _. A very handsome devil_ Kurt thought dreamily.

Sam stood by the back of his Navigator with a sheepish grin. He seemed to wear a lot of those. It appeared they were on the same wavelength with that thought.

"Sorry I keep scaring you, I don't mean to," he apologized, unconsciously twisting the cap on the orange juice bottle he was holding.

 _Way to make me feel guilty for indulging_ Kurt thought as he slurped his blended coffee. "Maybe I should just pay more attention," Kurt replied quietly. He gestured for Sam to take a seat as he had done exactly a week ago.

Sam flashed him a brilliant smile and hopped into his cargo area. Uncapping his drink, Sam took a long sip. Kurt had to pry his eyes away from the tanned expanse of the other teen's neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_!

Sam leaned over the end of Kurt's Navigator and grabbed the bag he must have dropped on the ground. He plunked it on his lap and roughly unzipped it to shove the empty orange juice bottle inside. As he jostled the bag, something fell out of one of the pockets and rolled under Kurt's legs without Sam noticing.

Placing his frap carefully on the floor, Kurt fished under his legs for the wayward trinket. Finding it, Kurt brought it up to his face so he could examine it. And promptly had so smother a giggle. He held in his hand a plastic 1up mushroom from Super Mario.

 _How cute…_ A laugh bubbled up inside Kurt before he could stop it, catching Sam's attention.

He looked at the fairer teen inquisitively. Kurt held out his hand, closed around the video game piece. Sam held his hand palm up and he dropped it into his waiting hand. Once he realized what had fallen out of his bag, he flushed an attractive shade of red. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the other teen winningly.

"Um, it's a… good luck charm," he explained bashfully.

"I wasn't gonna say anything. It's…sweet," Kurt replied. And immediately wanted to smack himself. _Do not call jocks sweet, no matter how laid back them seem._ Trying to switch the direction of the conversation, Kurt quickly said, "Besides, I love Mario."

Sam gazed at Kurt with an unidentifiable look that someone more experienced with matters of the heart would call "fond". Kurt had unknowingly just scored major points in Sam's book. He placed the mushroom in the zipped part of his gym bag and looked back to Kurt.

"What are you doing here so early? Well, again." Sam asked with a grin.

"I could ask the same of you. As for me, my dad's girlfriend's son stayed the night and I couldn't stand his snoring. If you could puzzle that out," Kurt said.

"Yeah, I think I got it. It's Finn, right? I thought I heard him saying something about his mom dating your dad."

"That's correct. And what about you?" Kurt inquired.

"Too excited to sleep. My best friend is moving in with me so he doesn't have to go to England with his family," Sam told him excitedly.

"Oh, wow. That's great, right? Is he going to be coming to McKinley in the fall as well?"

"Yeah, his name is Blaine."

"Well, I'm glad things worked out for him. And you," Kurt said.

Conversation lulled for a moment before Sam picked it up again by asking Kurt if he planned to stick around for the tryouts next week.

Kurt sighed; this was still a question he was asking himself. It seemed foolish to go through two weeks of hell and not even _try_ to make the team. But there was New Directions to consider, and the fact that ninety percent of the team was openly hostile towards him. Kurt merely responded with a "We'll see". Sam nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response.

"I hear that you are a contender for quarterback, congratulations," said Kurt.

And then it was all hair rubbing and feet wiggling and shoulder shrugging and it took everything Kurt had not reach over and smooth out Sam's rumpled blonde locks. _Dyed_ locks, but Kurt figured he could let that go just this one time.

"I don't want to step on anyone's toes, though," Sam finally replied.

"Please, just Finn's. He used to being on top, but if you're the man for the job, than you should take it. It's a sure-fire way to get the respect of the others on the team. Well, as long as they don't see you in the back of my Navigator" Kurt offered.

Sam looked to him sadly. "Do they- do the other guys mess with you? Like, a lot? Is it really that… dangerous for us to be friends, or whatever?"

Kurt took a deep breath. He had been hoping to avoid this, by avoiding Sam. That didn't work, the other teen was persistent. Or oblivious. Kurt didn't want to be the reason someone was tossed into a dumpster.

"I wouldn't call it dangerous, but it isn't smart. Sam, they throw me into dumpsters, throw slushies at me and the rest of my friends in New Directions, write things on my locker. Heck, once, they nailed all my lawn furniture to my roof," he said exasperatedly. He left out the pee balloons; it was embarrassing enough that _he_ knew. "It's not that I don't want to be your friend. I really do, you seem… great. Honestly, one of the only guys that isn't actively repulsed by my mere presences. But… I don't like to cause my friends trouble."

Sam reached over and took his hand and Kurt's breath got caught in his chest. "I really appreciate the thought, Kurt, I do. It's nice when people look out for you. But I'm a big boy," Sam said with a chuckle. "I can decide what to do on my own. I want to be your friend."

Kurt nodded dumbly. With one last squeeze, Sam released his hand and leaned back against the side of Kurt's Navigator. Kurt told himself not to get his hopes up, but his heart was soaring anyway. He only hoped he didn't regret this.

* * *

Sam smiled to himself. His conversation with Kurt had gone great! Now, if only he could figure out how/when it was appropriate to tell Kurt he was bi. Was Kurt one of those people that thought bi was just an excuse to no come out? If he was okay with it, would Kurt even be interested in him? Should he even be thinking about this? They had only known each other for a week, after all.

He breezed through the warm-ups and drills during the first half of camp. During lunch he intended to seek Kurt out but got roped into a discussion about the upcoming school year by Finn. Not wanting to alienate any possible friends, Sam allowed himself to be drawn into the conversation.

"So, you excited about school starting," Finn asked through a mouthful of food.

Sam tried not to let his disgust show. He hated when people spoke with their mouths full. "Yeah, I am. I have another friend from Dalton that is going to be going here too. He's moving in with me this weekend, since his parents are moving to England," replied Sam.

"Whoa, England," one of the other teens said in awed appreciation. "He must be crazy for not going."

Sam felt a spike of anger. Who were these people to pass judgment on his best friend? Not wanting to start a fight, Sam just shrugged and said, "It's complicated." The group accepted Sam's answer with a grunt and went back to devouring their food with single-minded determination.

Finn wiped his mouth on his shoulder. "If you and your friend need some help, I could help," He offered. Sam accepted and they quickly swapped numbers when lunch came to a close. With a promise to text him later, Sam tossed his trash in one of the large cans and made his way to the restroom before practice started up again.

Pushing open the door to the men's room, Sam spotted Kurt diligently washing his hands and fixing his hair in the mirror. Turning at the sound of the door, Kurt smiled and went back to his fussing.

Quickly answering the call of nature, Sam joined Kurt at the sinks to wash his hands. "I saw your kicks earlier. You are definitely the best potential kicker the team has," Sam complimented.

Kurt hummed in amusement and nodded coyly. Sam shook his head in amusement. He waited for to finish adjusting himself before walking out of the bathroom together. On the way back to the field, he noticed David Karofsky glaring daggers at him. _O-kay?_

Shrugging it off, Sam made his way over to the cluster of teens and waited for Coach Beiste to call them to order. Trilling in her whistle, she got their attention. "Listen up! It's the second week and playtime's over! We're doing laps every day after lunch. Now, get to runnin'!"

And with that they took off around the track. Sam smiled as he took off down the track. He loved running and he had missed it this past week. With all the practice, and now with getting the house ready for Blaine, he hadn't had any time to go for a good, long run.

And it seems he wasn't the only one. A few paces behind him, Kurt seemed to be having an easy time as well. Sam slowed his pace for a second, dropping back to chat with Kurt.

"You are runner?" he asked.

Kurt laughed and shook his head no. "Yoga and dance," he replied.

Sam nodded in understanding and they continued their way around the track. After about thirty minutes, Coach Beiste hollered for them to stop and gather by the water table. After a quick water break, it was back to the usual drills and exercises. As they went their separate ways for the durations of practice, Sam waved to Kurt, once again capturing Karofsky's attention.

_What is with that guy?_

_  
_

* * *

Camp was finally over. Sam had run to his car, eager to get to Blaine's and help him finish packing. Finally reaching his Camaro, Sam placed his worn gym bag on the roof of him car and reached into the Velcro pocket for his keys. His hands encountered blank space. He tried the rest of his pockets; still nothing. Getting more desperate, Sam ripped open the zipper and rifled around for his keys. Nothing.

He pat down all his pockets and looked around on the ground. Nothing. Quickly pushing his gym bag under his car for safe keeping while he searched, Sam trotted over the area where everyone kept their bags. He scanned the area for his keys. Still nothing. Sam closed his eyes and tried to think where he could have left them.

Wait! The locker room; Sam remembered hearing a clink when he was getting dressed. Assuming it was his belt, Sam thought nothing of it. It must have been his keys. Relieved, Sam strolled slowly to the locker room. He knew the other guys were still giving Kurt a hard time, so he wanted to give the other teen time to at least put his pants on.

Nearing the locker room, Sam heard furious voices from within. Slowing down, Sam paused before entering. Placing his hand on the swinging door, he pushed the door open as slowly and silently as possible. It was Dave Karofsky and Kurt and they appeared to be in some kind of argument Karofsky's back to him Sam entered just in time to hear Kurt yell, "You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

And with that, Karofsky lunged forward, grabbed both sides of Kurt's face, and kissed him. Sam was shocked. Suddenly, Karofsky's interest in Kurt made so much more sense. He was gay. As he went in for another kiss, Kurt shoved him away with a look of abject horror on his face. He looked terrified.

Sam felt sick. Here he was, eavesdropping, instead of helping Kurt. How had he not realized it earlier? Slapping the lockers in anger, Karofsky stormed out without noticing him. Sam looked to Kurt, still frozen in horror. Stepping out from his hiding place slowly, so as not to frighten Kurt further.

"Kurt?" he called softly.

Said boy jumped out of his skin anyway, eyes struggling to focus on Sam.

"It's just me. Are you alright? I… kinda caught the tail end of that…" he admitted.

Kurt released a choked sob. He shook his head. Sam wanted to kick himself. _Of_ course _he wasn't okay. Karofsky just forced himself on him_.

Kurt had his arms wrapped around himself protectively, shaking like a leaf. Sam could tell he was fighting back tears. Moving slowly, Sam gingerly wrapped an arm around the upset boy. Suddenly, Kurt laughed.

Sam was concerned. Was he becoming hysterical? What are you supposed to do with hysterical people again? Splash them with water? Well, there was plenty of water here. Before Sam couldn't contemplate risking Kurt's wrath by dousing his clothed form in water, Kurt bean speaking.

"I never thought I'd see the day where I wished I had let Jesse St. James kiss me in my father's office," he said with a bitter laugh.

 _Wait, Jesse St. James? The incredibly well groomed guy that had nearly put me off guys for life?_ (And given him a hair complex, but that's beside the point…) Sam had to know if it was the same guy…

"Like, Jesse St. James from Carmel High?" he asked hesitantly.

Kurt looked to him in disbelief. "Yes, actually. You know him?" Kurt responded.

Well, here it was. The perfect opportunity to tell Kurt he's open to dating guys. But was this the right time? Kurt had just been… well, assaulted. Did he really need to know he was stuck in the locker room with a kinda-closeted guy? It's not like he was hiding! But no one had asked…

The excuse sounded weak, even in his own mind. _Now or never, Sammy._ "Um, we…kinda…dated."

Sam could feel himself blushing down to his toes. He stared at said appendages, fearfully awaiting Kurt's reaction. He could feel Kurt turn to face him within the cradle of his arm. Chancing a look at Kurt through his bangs, he saw Kurt staring at him incredulously.

" _You_ dated Jesse St. James?" he questioned.

Sam nodded slowly. "For a little while. My friend, Blaine, set me up with him. We went on a few dates, but we didn't really have anything in common. He… kinda gave me a complex," he said with a laugh. "Made me feel incompetent, like, romance wise."

"So... you're gay?" Kurt asked hesitantly, softly, maybe even hopefully.

"Uh, bi, actually," he confessed.

Kurt looked flabbergasted. Blaine had told him that he came off really straight, but he always thought it was just because Blaine had terrible gaydar. And how do you come off straight? Things like this just hurt his head.

Kurt's silence began to frighten him. "Is that…okay? I know some people have a thing, like, they think we're just slutty, or… like, easy…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"No!" Kurt exclaimed. "No, not at all. I just totally didn't expect it. Though I can guess why my being gay doesn't seem to bother you, now."

"Well, that and my best friend is gay. My parents are really open-minded, too. As long as I'm happy, they're happy," Sam explained.

Kurt smiled weakly only to grimace again. "What is it?" Sam asked.

"It's just… up until now… I had never been kissed," he whispered, voice cracking.

Sam's heart ached with sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said simply. He had the urge to kiss him, erase the memory of Karofsky's kiss, but decided against it. The last thing Kurt needed was someone else to kiss him unexpectedly in less than twenty minutes. "Are you okay to drive home? Do you need a ride?" he asked with concern.

Kurt simled. "As much as I'd love a ride in your amazing Camaro, I think I'll be fine. Thank you, though, for the offer." And then, "Oh! I forgot… here. I found your keys."

Sam took his keys back with a grateful nod. Just in case Karofsky was lurking, waiting for Kurt, Sam thought it would be best if he walked Kurt to his SUV. Kurt seemed to think the same thing as he walked closely to Sam on the way to the parking lot.

There was no sign of Karofsky as they walked slowly to their vehicles. They parted with a wave, but Kurt sent him a smile that made Sam's insides all squirmy. He waited until Kurt was in his car before reaching under his car and retrieving his bag. He unlocked his Camaro and tossed his bag in the passenger seat. He huffed in annoyance. He forgot to wipe it off, now he'd have to detail it.

Sam saw Kurt pull out of the parking lot in his rear view mirror. As his car faded from view, Sam released the love struck sigh he had been holding in since he had put his arm around the fair-skinned teen. He couldn't wait to talk to Blaine…

* * *

Kurt had been completely blindsided. How in the world had he missed this? Karofsky? Sam? When he woke up this morning, the last thing he thought would happen today is that he would discover not one, but _two_ , guys on the team _played_ for his team and then, consequently, be lip-raped by the one that was an absolute… _asshole_. _AND_ that other one (who, lamentably, _didn't_ kiss him) had _dated_ his new friend.

As Kurt pulled out of the parking lot, he could hold it in no longer. Giant, gut-wrenching sobs wracked his body. He cried the entire way to his house, up his drive way, into his house, and finally, the kitchen. Kurt would have continued his sobfest if he hadn't encountered someone in the kitchen.

Rachel.

Kurt crying was interrupted by absolute shock. _What the hell?_

"R-Rachel, what are you d-doing here?" he questioned, cursing the hitch in his voice.

"Um, I came over with Finn. He's staying here for a few days while his mom is visiting her sister, right? He, uh, went to go get some pizza…" she explained.

 _Of course. A warning would just be too much to ask for, thanks Finn. This_ isn't _your house yet…_

"Are-are you alright?" Rachel asked, following him into the living room.

Collapsing onto the couch, he had every intention of telling her off, telling her that it was none of her business, and he would have. But she sounded so concerned, so genuine, that it just all tumbled out. The taunting, the bullying, the locker room antics, and finally, the kiss. The only thing he left out was Sam's confession; it wasn't his place to tell, as much as he wanted to.

Throughout Kurt's outpouring, Rachel stayed uncharacteristically silent, wrapping her arms around him, rocking him back and forth while petting his hair. When he reached the end of his rant, Rachel went into the hall bathroom and came out with a cool washcloth for his face.

Kurt took it gratefully and patted his face with it, the damp cloth cooling his fevered skin. Rachel sat down next to him and took his hand in her lap. "Kurt," she began. "What happened to you, what's _been_ happening to you, is terrible. It makes me sick when I think about how small-minded most of this town is. You and I, we don't belong here; we're meant for so much more. But we we're lucky enough to have a great families. My Dad's would do anything for me; _your_ dad would do anything for you. _Talk_ to him. Don't you think he wants to know what going on with his son?"

As much as Kurt hated to admit it, she was right. A burden shared is a burden halved. He just needed to work up the nerve to tell his father what had been happening. But first, Rachel.

"Thanks, Rachel. Really. And you're right, much as it pains me," he said teasingly.

"It's about time someone realized that," she said with a smirk. "Do you need anything else? Or will you be alright?"

"I'll be alright. I just need to go lay down, I think," and with that, Kurt hugged her tightly before making his way down to his room.

The cool basement air kissed his skin and Kurt almost groaned in relief. Trudging down his steps, Kurt walked right out of his shoes and collapsed face down on his bed. He pressed into the neatly made bed like a puppy. Kurt shucked his pants and socks, desperate to cool his flushed skin.

Nuzzling into the blankets, Kurt grabbed the remote to his iPod stereo and flicked on his classical music playlist. Lakmé's _The Flower Duet_ floated gently out of the speakers and filled the room. Sighing, he attempted to clear his mind. It was times like there that Kurt wished he had gotten into meditation when Tina had been experimenting with her Eastern roots.

Well, Kurt may not know how to meditate like Tina, but he had his own kind of meditation; Watching steamy HBO shows on TV for hours and hours. This was a job for True Blood. The fact that Eric was a tall, blonde, piece of perfection (much like someone else Kurt knew), had _nothing_ to do with this selection.

Getting up from his bed, Kurt popped in disc one of season one and settled in for some therapy. Good that Southern accent just did things to him. After the first episode, Kurt reached under his bed for his netbook. Kurt was a multitasker (and a Facebook addict).

Kurt was also very paranoid. He never used the same password, never told Firefox to remember his passwords. It's not like Kurt had anything _naughty_ on his computer, far from it. The most risqué thing on his hard drive was probably the digital calendar of soccer players on his desktop.

No, the reason for his paranoia is that _someone_ had hacked into his Facebook and wrecked him. They left mean comments on his friend's pages, put terrible derogatory statuses on his page. They went through and "liked" the most depraved things and had him share some truly disgusting videos.

Luckily, Mercedes had been all over that. She called him as soon as she saw and let him know about the virtual devastation that had occurred. Kurt had gone through a week of hell. Whoever hacked into his page had left insulting comments all over the football team's pages. Kurt actually broke his own rules and wore non-designer, off-brand clothes to school for the entire week. His skin had been _stained_ from the all the slushy baths he'd taken.

And his poor baby. Emmy has been egged and Gucci knows what else. Kurt pushed those thoughts out of his head. He's cried enough for one day. Navigating to Facebook, Kurt logged in and looked at what he had missed while he had been at hormone camp.

Hrmm, Mercedes went to the mall ( _bitch_ ), Tina is packing to leave Asian camp, Artie was rapping (again). Ben Jacob Israel had sent him a message asking him to comment on something that would surely get him intimately aquatinted with a toilet (also again). Kurt reflexively ran his hands through his hair. He was so glad he had the summer to repair the damages done to his chestnut locks. _Damn swirlies._

And, hello, what's this? One new friend request.

**Sam Evans**

Kurt clicked "accept" immediately and settled in to do a little stalking. Clicking on his picture, Kurt was brought to his page. Updates about his friend not moving to England, video game marathons, and teasing comments from what Kurt assumed were his friends filled his page. Very typical teenage boy.

But then there were some things that Kurt would have found unusual if he didn't know Sam was bi. On his interests he listed gardening and reading ( _very_ unusual for teenage boys). He had a ton of picture of him and an adorable French bulldog, cuddling and snuggle and making those ridiculous baby faces that all people make when they are around animals. His mom seemed to be his number one fan, and Sam didn't seem ashamed of that.

Kurt felt a brief pang for the loss of his own mom. He loved his father, and Carole seemed great, but no one in the world could ever replace his mother. Going back to this search, He browsed through Sam's pictures and saw a guy that liked to hang out with his friends and enjoyed athletic pursuits.

As he perused Sam's page, he could feel himself smiling. Sure, he didn't know this kid from Adam, but he realized that he _wanted_ to. _Please, don't let this backfire. Don't let this be a cruel joke_.

Kurt decided his day had been stressful enough that he could indulge again. He placed his netbook on his bed, clicked off True Blood and switched it to The Cooking Channel, and climbed the stairs.

And climbed back down. Pants. Must. Wear. Pants.

Once he reached the kitchen (with pants on, thank you very much), he opened the freezer and pulled out two of the lemon shortbread cookies he has made last week and popped them in the microwave. As he put the kettle on to boil, he opened the cabinet and contemplated his choices. Tea, definitely tea. He settled on a decaf chamomile tea, hoping it would help some serenity and calm seep into his bones. Placing his tea (one lemon slice and a dollop of honey) and cookies on a tiny tray, he made his way back down to his room.

Placing the tray beside him in his bed, he put his netbook on his crossed legs. Looking on the bottom of the screen, Kurt saw the little red bubble that meant someone was messaging him. Sam was messaging him.

Kurt looked at his tea ruefully. _So much for relaxing…_

 **Sam Evans** hey

 **Kurt Hummel** Hello there

 **Sam Evans** did you get home ok?

Kurt smiled. He could feel himself softening toward the other teen even more. _How kind of him…_ What was it about this guy that had him turning into some sort of Southern Belle that needed rescuing (Kurt might be addicted to Harlequin romances about the South).

 **Kurt Hummel** Yes, thank you :)

 **Sam Evans** Good, i was kinda worried. You seemed really upset

 **Kurt Hummel** It's alright. I don't live far from campus, actually, so no worries.

 **Sam Evans** that's lucky, I just got home

 **Kurt Hummel** Do you live very far?

 **Sam Evans** not *too* far

 **Sam Evans** I just took the scenic route, wanted to go for a bit of a drive before helping my friend pack

 **Kurt Hummel** Oh, well don't let me keep you.

 **Sam Evans** nice talking to you. See you tomorrow :)

 **Kurt Hummel** See you.

Kurt smiled as he shut his computer. He took a sip of his tea and grimaced. _Cold._ He wandered upstairs to heat his tea in t he microwave and encountered Finn in the kitchen. Popping open the microwave, he pressed the beverage setting and turned his back to it while the machine whirred.

Finn looked to him. "You're friends with that Sam kid?" he asked.

Kurt looked at him questioningly. "Yes?"

Finn gave him an unreadable look. "How did you find him?"

 _What?_ "Um, I didn't. He found me."

"Did you tell him too?" Finn persisted.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" Kurt finally asked.

"Nothing! Nothing. Just… wondering." Finn defended.

Kurt didn't buy it. Something wasn't right with this situation. The microwave beeped. Taking that as his cue to get out of here, Kurt retrieved his tea and went back to his room with a backwards glace at Finn. Form the hallway, he could see Rachel tidying up Finn's mess in the living room

Kurt rolled his eyes and descended the steps to his room once more. Kurt had a feeling that Finn's inquisition didn't bode well for him.


	9. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Well, sort of. This chapter will be a bit angsty, but don't worry, you will soon be rewarded. Also, we're going to see Finn get taken down a notch or two, which I know some of you will enjoy :P
> 
> We're going to see development of _another_ relationship in this chapter and I hope you like the pairing. There may even be a little smut to be had *wink*. We shall see. There will be some switching of POV's in this chapter, more so than the previous ones. I am going to try to be really clear about it, but just holler at me if I failed.
> 
> Betad by the amazing **StarfireEyes**!
> 
> I give you chapter nine!
> 
> Disclaimer: As much as it saddens me, Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy.
> 
> WARNINGS: a relationship between male minors, angst, foul language, homophobia, etc.

Sam was bouncing in anticipation. Today was the day that Blaine moved in for good. Throughout the week the two teens had hauled over what they could fit in their cars, but a Mercedes and a Camaro were _not_ conducive to moving. Not to mention that fact the Sam _may_ have driven over a pothole a bit more aggressively than wise and now had to have an axle replaced.

That's where Finn came in.

Sam had mixed feelings about the gangly teen. Of course it was really nice of him to offer to help Sam and Blaine with their moving endeavor, but he couldn't help but feel like it was a loaded offer. The phrase "keep your friends close but your enemies closer" popped into Sam's mind.

They _were_ competing for position as starting quarterback, and as much as Sam wanted to fit in and be accepted, he really wanted to make QB1. Another thing that bothered Sam about Finn was the way he treated Kurt. From what he understood, the two of them were probably going to end up brothers.

How could Finn just sit there and let the other guys on the team treat Kurt the way they did? Finn's obliviousness was legendary, even _Sam_ could see that and he had only known the other teen for two weeks, but no one could be this oblivious. He was being willfully ignorant.

Sam couldn't help but feel sickened by someone that chose popularity over their friends or family. As difficult as it was, Sam decided not pass judgment until he had all the facts (even though he totally was in his head but didn't want to admit it). Regardless of Finn's motivation, Sam _was_ grateful for the extra set of hands, especially after camp.

Sort of.

He won't pretend he hadn't noticed that Kurt had a large vehicle. Perfect for, shall we say, helping someone move? Sam had gone back and forth with his desire to ask Kurt over under the guise of helping him move but he never managed to work up the nerve.

He really should. Sam was certain that Kurt and Blaine would get along like a house on fire and it would be nice for Blaine to know someone before his first day in McKinley. Hrmmm…

Before Sam could continue contemplating setting up a blind friend-date, Blaine walked through his front door wearing a massive smile. He bounced over to his blonde friend and tackled him in a bone-crushing hug.

_Umphh!_

Blaine may be small, but he was mighty! Releasing his friend, Blaine stepped back and looked at Sam with sudden sincerity.

"Have I told you how awesome you are lately? Seriously, if it wasn't for you, I would be getting on a plane for London in three days, attending some prep school in Ireland. Just… thanks, Sam."

Sam just smiled and pulled Blaine in for another hug. As they parted, Sam quickly darted his hand out and ruffled the shorter teen's hair, shattering the tenuous hold the gel had on his insanely curly locks. Blaine let out a growl and his traditional battle cry of "You'll pay for this!" before chasing him around the living room.

Their chase came to a halt when R2-D2 went berserk, howling and growling as menacingly as he could (which isn't very menacing, Frenchies are adorable). Before the teens could clamber off the floor and investigate, Sam's cell rang. Blaine made his way over to the windows while the blonde teen swiped his phone from where it had fallen during his and Blaine's tussle and looked at the caller ID while.

_Finn_

As Sam answered the call, Blaine said, "Um, there is a really tall kid in your driveway…" causing him to laugh into the receiver.

"Um, hello?" came Finn's voice.

"Hey, sorry," Sam apologized.

"S'cool. I, uh, I think I'm at your house."

"Yeah," Sam managed through his chuckles. Blaine was pouting about being vertically challenged. Again. Late bloomer his ass. "Just come up the steps to the front door."

"'Kay," and with that, Finn hung up.

Sam strode to the door and opened it just as Finn was raising his hand to knock. Sam smiled and gestured for Finn to come inside. The tall teen took in his surroundings with a slightly awed air before toeing off his shoes and looking to Sam expectantly.

"Oh, right! So, this is Blaine," Sam introduced.

Blaine smiled from his position at the window and moved forward to shake the awkward teen's hand. Finn just nodded uncomfortably and shook Blaine's hand quickly before dropping it. He jammed his hands in his jean's pockets before puffing out a breath.

"So, where do we start?"

Sam stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the messy living room. Half-formed boxes littered the every available surface and most of the floor. He motioned at the containers and took a deep breath.

"Well, we need to grab a bunch of boxes and bring them to Blaine's house, for his clothes. Most of his other stuff is packed in studier boxes in case it rains and so they don't get knocked around. So, just grab an armful and we'll follow you to your car."

Finn nodded and scooped up a remarkable amount of boxes. Well, someone that tall _would_ have an impressive arm span. He and Blaine grabbed the remained of the cardboard boxes and trailed after Finn. After calling a quick goodbye to R2, Sam closed and locked the door behind him.

He tossed the boxes in the back seat of the extended cab in Finn's truck and hopped in the front while Blaine got comfortable in the back. Finn was being oddly quiet. He kept glancing at Sam like he had something he wanted to tell him, but then he'd glance back at Blaine, like his presence was deterring him from speaking up.

_Curious_.

And damn Blaine for making him watch Alice in Wonderland _again_. Now he couldn't stop thinking in Alice-isms. Alice speak? Whatever.

Sam gave Finn instructions to Blaine's palatial estate and enjoyed the taller teen's reaction to the opulence that the elder Andersons preferred. Finn parked and the teens unloaded the truck. Blaine paused and looked up at his childhood home.

"I won't miss this place one bit," he said bitterly.

Finn looked at him incredulously, but wisely said nothing. They climbed the steps and entered the house. The once spotless manor was a hive of activity, movers gently packing away the various (and numerous) valuables to be moved overseas. The teens made their way up to Blaine's room, Finn pausing in the doorway after the other two.

Blaine weaved his way through his room, taking some unfolded boxes over to his walk-in closet. "Alright, mostly everything is packed. I just need to toss all this stuff in some boxes and then pack my sheets and towels and stuff. Do you guys mind taking down those two trunks? And the flat screen, if you can manage it."

"No prob, B," Sam replied.

Finn nodded and mumbled something that sounded like "sure".

Now, Sam was a _very_ tolerant guy, more than most, but Finn's attitude was getting on his nerves. Sure, some people were shy around new folk, but Sam knew that wasn't the case with taller teen. Shaking his head, Sam moved to the closest trunk, waiting for the other teen to grasp the other side. They lifted the heavy trunk with relative ease, cautiously making their way downstairs.

Sam made sure to keep the container as steady as he possible could. He knew for a fact that grateful or not, Blaine would kill him if he messed up his instruments, records, or record player. Because of his concentration, Sam missed the fact that Finn's reticence to speak seemed to be coming to a head.

Gingerly maneuvering around the various hired help, the two teens made finally reached Finn's truck. Sam carefully balanced the trunk on his knee so he could pull down the door to the truck bed. They deftly maneuvered the container onto the flat of the bed. Finn hopped up onto his truck and helped Sam guide the trunk into the back and secure it with bungee cords.

Sam quickly looked at Finn's face and could see that he had something to say, something Sam had a feeling he wasn't going to like. It was petty but Sam felt that it was alright for him to take a page out of Finn's book and just be rude. So he ignored it.

He made his way back to Blaine's room, barely glancing behind to see that the gangly teen was following him. Sam could make out the lumbering shape of the tall teen a few steps behind him, following in his wake. The blond teen swiftly scaled the stairs and made his way back to his friend's room.

As they entered, Blaine was ready to take down a load with them. Sam inwardly cheered in relief. He couldn't shake the feeling that nothing good could come of the conversation Finn was dying to have.

* * *

Luck was on Sam's side for the duration of time at Blaine's house. After the three teens had loaded Finn's truck to capacity, they made their way back to Sam's. The ride back was silent and uncomfortable. Blaine had texted him earlier, asking him if he has inadvertently offended the silent teen.

Sam hadn't known how to respond. Did he? Did they? He had simply shrugged and hoped that Finn's uncharacteristic silence would fade as the day went on.

No such luck.

Sam knew he wasn't going to be able to delay whatever confrontation Finn had planned for much longer, he only hoped that it didn't happen in front of Blaine.

As they arrived back at Sam's, the blond teen jogged ahead to unlock the door while the other two teens grabbed an armful of boxes and made their way to the room Blaine had chosen (at the end of the hall to the far left of Sam's room. Teenage boys need their privacy…).

Sam doubled back and grabbed some boxes and followed close behind. Pushing open the door to Blaine's new room, the boys set the boxes on the new queen sized bed that was part of Blaine's parent's going away present.

The pale wood and cream walls made the room bright and airy. It suited Blaine perfectly. As they each deposited their load, Sam decided that it was time to end this.

"So, there are only a few boxes left, and then the trunks before we have to go back. Why don't you stay up here and start unpacking while Finn and I go back down and get the rest?"

Blaine nodded with a tired smile. Sam could see Finn looking relieved and steeled himself for what was to come. What could it be? Something about Blaine? About him? What?

R2 looked at them curiously as they went back out the door. The longer Finn remained silent, the more tense Sam became. As the teens rounded the back of the truck, Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Is something wrong? You've been quiet and… weird all day? Do you need to tell me something?" Sam asked.

Finn almost looked relieved and Sam felt a burr of annoyance settle in his chest. The taller teen leaned against his truck and looked to Sam in concern.

_Okay…?_

Before Sam could voice his question, Finn _finally_ started talking. Sam never would have been able to guess what Finn would say to him.

"You know Kurt, right?"

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Well, yeah. Of course, he _does_ go to camp with us."

"The other day he was all smiling over Facebook, said you had added him as a friend." Finn said.

"Yeah…" Sam failed to see where this was going.

"Did—did he pressure you or something?"

_What? Pressure me?_

"What?" he asked.

"Just—you have to be careful around him. He makes things more serious in his head, doesn't know when to stop. He can be… pushy."

_Pushy?_ Sam thought, bewildered. Finn plowed on.

"I mean, I can understand. Being like him, not having anyone. You seem really cool, but you didn't see the way Kurt was looking at you. You mighta just been being friendly, but sometimes Kurt sees things that aren't there, you know, 'cause he's gay."

Sam saw red. Was Finn really warning him about being harassed by Kurt because the other boy happened to be gay? Sam took a deep breath. _Easy, Sam. This could all be a misunderstanding._

He needed to handle this carefully. Well, he needed to not fly off the handle and take a swing at the other quarterback. Sam wanted to believe that he was just misunderstanding the lanky teen, but Finn's face the picture of sincerity. Sam chose his words carefully, speaking slowly.

"So, are you telling me to be careful around Kurt, because he may develop feelings for me that I can't reciprocate?" he tried to clarify in vain.

"Yes," Finn said, relieved. "But Kurt just doesn't know when to stop; he doesn't get that no means no or that guys can't hang out with people like him without getting dogged on all the time."

Sam was incredibly impressed with his self-restraint right now. Finn wasn't just insulting Kurt, he was insulting Blaine, and him for that matter.

Before Sam could respond, he heard a familiar voice behind them. "People like him?"

Blaine.

Finn, not sensing the tension in the air, blundered onward, "Yeah, you know, gay."

Blaine stood near the front of Finn's truck, holding back tears. "People like me," he choked out.

Emotions flickered across the tall teen's face; embarrassment, guilt, and then… fear. Finn fidgeted with his clothing and shifted uneasily from side to side. _Does—does he seriously think Blaine would look twice at him?_

Sam had enough. "I think you need to leave."

"I didn't think-" Finn began.

"No, you didn't think! How dare you talk about _anyone_ the way you spoke about Kurt? You know, you don't deserve the pedestal people put you on. Like Blaine would ever look twice at you! _You're_ the one people should be worried about being seen with. I—I never thought someone could be so ignorant or... uncaring. You guys are practically brothers…"

With that, Sam leapt onto Finn's truck and removed the last trunk and remaining boxes, placing them on the ground beside the truck. Blaine was desperately holding back tears, arms wrapped around himself protectively. Sam rubbed his best friend's back soothingly while looking to the speechless Finn.

"Shame on you, Finn Hudson," Sam said quietly. "Shame on you. I think it's best you leave."

Finn just stood there, mouth opening and closing like a beached fish.

"Go." Sam demanded.

Finn rounded his truck, hopped in, and sped down the drive. As he drove out of sight, Blaine finally gave in to the tears. He cried into Sam's shoulder, the friends clutching each other for comfort. "I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I'm so sorry."

As he held his friend through his tears, Sam couldn't decide if he was apologizing for Finn's ignorance or that fact that this was not going to be the last of the cruelty that his tenderhearted friend would be subjected to at McKinley.

* * *

Kurt had never felt more depressed. First, a closeted-homophobe stole his first kiss. Things started to look better, after his conversation with Sam. Then Finn's strange comments to him in the kitchen. But nothing could have prepared Kurt for what was in store for him when Finn got home.

The taller teen drove up the Hummel's driveway like a bat out of hell, the look on his face murderous. Kurt could see his expression from the window in front of the sink, where he was perched doing the dishes _Finn_ had dirtied last night in his disastrous attempt to make brownies.

Finn slammed open the door and began stalking down the hall, ignoring Kurt's concerned face. Kurt quickly dried his hands on a dishtowel and hustled behind his almost-step-brother. "Finn, what's wrong?"

Turns out, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"What's wrong? You're wrong! This is _your_ fault! If it wasn't for you and your pedant for straight guys, I wouldn't be in this mess!"

_Penchant_ Kurt corrected in his head. Kurt felt tears sting his eyes. He thought they had gotten past all this.

"God Kurt, what do you have to be so…GAY!" Finn bellowed.

Kurt stepped back in shock, gasping silently. Steeling himself, Kurt drew himself to his full height and raised his chin defiantly. "Go ahead," he dared. "Say it."

This just pissed Finn off more. He slapped the wall in annoyance. "Say WHAT?"

"How your life would be so much easier if you mom was dating someone with a normal son! How your life would be better if I wasn't so _faggy_!" Kurt spat.

The color immediately drained from Finn's face. "Kurt…"

"Don't, Finn. Just don't," Kurt whispered.

Finn kicked the wall once more before hightailing it out the door. Kurt stood paralyzed in the hallway, listening to the sound of a truck squealing down the street. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid downward, crying.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew his dad was shaking him awake. He and Carole had gotten back from their visit yesterday but Finn and Carole remained here while some maintenance was being performed on their roof because of the rainy summer weather.

Burt sat down next to his son, pulling him into his comforting embrace. "Kurtie," he cooed and was like a dam broke. He curled into his father and cried his diva heart out. He cried for himself and for his dad and for kids like Rachel, people that had to deal with the ignorance and ugliness of the world for no other reason than being "different".

"And I'm quitting camp. It's not a place for someone like me, not here, not in Lima. I can't do it, I won't. The taunts, the tension, the abuse…" Kurt trailed off, wincing when he realized what he let slip.

"Abuse?" Burt said dangerously. "What kind of abuse? Who's hurtin' my baby?"

"It's nothing, just some dumb jocks. My being in camp, and doing so well, is just really getting to them. I guess it emasculates them, or something. I just—I can't do it. I'm sorry, Daddy," Kurt whimpered and looked at his father with wide, beseeching eyes.

"Shh, none of that, now. I'm not disappointed; I'm _so_ proud. It takes a real man to know when it's time to bow out gracefully. You have to deal with ugliness no kid your age has any business dealing with, and you do it with dignity, and you do it with grace." Burt got choked up, unable to continue for a moment. "Just know that I love you, and I would do _anything_ for you, Bambi."

Burt pressed a kiss to his son's hair, cupping his face and staring into his sons face. With a fond pat, Burt rose to his feet with a groan and help his son onto his feet. "Go take a bath, or a nap, something to calm you down. I'll make you some of that tea you like and bring it down."

Kurt smiled through his tears and gave his dad a squeeze before climbing down to his room. He wanted to get in some deep relaxation before facing Coach Beiste, Finn, and the rest of the team tomorrow. He needed time to practice his farewell speech.

* * *

"Sam, Sam honey, you need to get up."

Sam shook his head, waking up bleary eyed and with a mouth full of cotton. He looked around for the source of what was shaking him and encountered the face of his loving mother. She seemed concerned…

Then it all came back to him. He and Blaine quickly carried the rest of his stuff into the living room and collapsed onto the couch for the rest of the day, and (apparently) all night. Looking at the clock, Sam saw that it was nearly seven in the morning. His parents must have just gotten home from the airport.

Sam could tell his mom wanted to ask about the teens place on the couch, their aborted moving attempts. "Later, Mom. Later."

Patricia nodded but Sam noticed the stubborn gleam in her eye and resigned himself to reliving the Finn debacle later. Sam quickly went through his morning routine, dreading being in the taller teen's presence.

Walking back into the living room, Sam saw that Blaine was up and pulling on his shoes, dressed to take him to camp.

"Hey, if you're not up to it I can just ask if I can borrow my mom's car."

Blaine waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it; I need to get out anyway. I'm going to get the rest of my stuff and say goodbye to my family. I'll probably need the excuse to come get you so I can leave before I go mental."

Sam smiled and the two made their way to Blaine's Mercedes. Sam closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, Blaine was shaking him awake, telling him they were there.

"2:30, right?" Blaine confirmed.

"Yep, see ya later B." Sam called as he jogged to the practice field, bag over his shoulder.

As he approached the rest of the team, Sam clearly saw Finn's repentant face. He ignored it in favor of standing near Coach Beiste. The fact that she just happened to be nearest to Kurt was a coincidence, seriously. As she barked out directions for the upcoming training, he took in Kurt's dejected stance and unusually reserved manner.

Did Finn say something to him? He spared an angry glare for the sheepish teen. This entire situation was absolutely ridiculous.

Practice went by in a blur. The physical activity was grueling, but welcome. Sam didn't have time to think about how Blaine was coping with the knowledge he was attending school that was going to hate him or the fact that Kurt wasn't _actually_ participating, only cleverly making it seem so. Sam's only goal was absolutely _crushing_ Finn Hudson during tryouts.

Finally, Coach Beiste called practice to a close with a brutal trill on her whistle and a bellow of "Showers!". Sam was instantly reminded of what happened yesterday in the locker room and paused, searching for Kurt. The blond teen spotted Kurt's slender frame huddling near Coach Beiste, waiting for his turn to speak to the intimidating woman.

Sam shouldered his bag and made his way over to where they were standing, waiting for Kurt just out of earshot. As much as Sam wanted to know _everything_ about the fair teen, he wouldn't intrude on what could be a private conversation. Sam could only hope the smaller teen was reporting Karofsky's, _ahem_ , indiscretion.

Coach turned to Kurt and soon they were deeply ensconced in conversation. Kurt looked apologetic and ashamed while Coach Beiste looked deeply sympathetic. For the first time Sam had ever witnessed, Coach Beiste reached out and placed a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder. As Kurt retrieved his bag, Coach Beiste stared at her clipboard, deep in thought.

Sam walked over to the quiet teen, clearing his throat to make his presence known. Kurt spun around his eyes wide with fear until he recognized the blond teen. Sam managed his first genuine smile of the day. "Hey," he greeted as he accompanied Kurt over to the lockers.

"Hi," Kurt said quietly. "Were you… waiting for me?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said, rubbing the back if his head shyly. "I just… kinda figured that with yesterday, maybe it's best for you to not be alone in the locker room. Sorry if bringing it up upsets you…"

"No!" Kurt rushed to assure him. "No. Thank you. I was actually really nervous about that. Not that it matters anymore…"

Sam turned to Kurt, tilting his head in a way that reminded Kurt of a canine. _An adorable canine…_ Kurt turned to face Sam as he pushed the door open with his back. The locker room was empty, much to their combined relief.

"I quit." Kurt said simply before moving to his locker. Refusing to look at the tanned teen, he continued. "This isn't the place for me. I need to apply my talents elsewhere, somewhere they'll be more appreciated."

"Kurt…" Sam trailed off. There was nothing for him to say. The reasons Sam had for Kurt to stay on the team were purely selfish. At least if Kurt was on the team, they would always have time to spend together. "As much as sucks, it was probably for the best, if only because of Karofsky."

Kurt nodded solemnly and then just looked to Sam expectantly, blushing attractively. "Umm, could you… turn around?"

Sam colored as he realized he was caught staring at the beautiful teen. "Sorry…" he mumbled, swiftly turning to his own locker, preparing for his own post-practice shower. Sam heard Kurt brush past him and the water sputter to life in the showers.

Sam quickly gathered his things and boldly stepped into the shower next to the other boy. Kurt glanced at the blonde teen in surprise before reddening further and focusing his attention on the tiled wall in front of him.

Pretending not to notice, Sam engaged Kurt in conversation. "So, now that your days won't be taken up by tackles and drills, what will you be up to?"

Kurt sighed and frowned at the decrepit showerhead. "Sadly, nothing. Because I had planned on doing this for the rest of the summer, my friends are otherwise occupied. I'll probably end up going into work with my dad."

Sam reached for his body wash, flexing his muscles while lathering up his body. It was vain and pathetic, but he just couldn't help himself. If Kurt noticed his face showed no signs of it. Mentally shrugging, Sam plowed on. "What's your dad do?"

"Oh, he's mechanic. He owns the best auto shop in town." Kurt laughed fondly. "I've been fixing up cars since I could see under the hood."

Sam couldn't believe his luck. Just when he thought he wouldn't get to see the intriguing teen for the rest of the summer, an opportunity like this presented itself. Now all he had to do was ask…

"Youuuu wouldn't know how to fix up a Camaro, would you?" Sam asked guiltily.

Suddenly, Kurt paused mid-scrub and turned to stare at Sam in (mock?) horror. "What did you do to that poor car?"

"It was an accident!" Sam said while holding his hands out pleadingly. "There was a pot hole! It was deeper than it looked, I tried to miss it but it was too late!"

"Poor thing. How are you getting home?" Kurt asked in concern. Sam had the unflattering feeling it was not for him, but his Camaro. _Damn car…_

"Oh, Blaine is my ride until further notice." Sam dutifully replied. _Please work, please work_ he begged mentally.

"Well, if you'd like, I can follow you home and take a look. If you don't have anything planned…"

"No! I mean—yeah, you can follow me home. I don't have any plans." Sam sent up a silent prayer that Blaine had finished moving everything while he was at practice.

"Alright," Kurt replied with a gentle smile. "After I take a look at her, I can go to my dad's shop and see what kind of deal I could set up with my dad. That okay?"

"Sounds great," Sam breathed. Kurt beamed back and turned off the spray of the shower, swiftly wrapping himself in a towel and quickly making his way to his locker. Sam allowed himself a moment to bask in his victory, smiling goofily at the warm sensation in his chest.

Finishing his shower, Sam also grabbed his towel and padded back to his clothes. As Kurt came into sight, Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that the slim teen was already dressed. Although those skinny jeans did wonders for his… assets.

Throwing on his clothes, Sam checked his phone and noticed he missed a text. Blaine.

_I'm here. It's early though, take your time._

Sam turned to Kurt. "Ready?"

The smaller teen nodded and gestured for Sam to lead the way. The two teens leisurely made their way to the parking lot. Sam easily spotted Blaine's idling Mercedes. He didn't expect to see a mohawked boy leaning against the driver's side door, biceps bulging, wearing a devilish smirk on his face.

As Sam neared it was easy to see the flush on his best friends face. Sam frowned, he had heard all about Puck's reputation. He wouldn't let his best friend be played with. It wasn't that he had anything against the Jewish teen, he just recognized the look on his face all too well. Before Sam could say anything, Kurt beat him too it.

"Noah," he acknowledged kindly.

Inwardly, Sam huffed. Of course Kurt had to like him. Quickly switching gears, Sam smiled and waved cheerfully. Maybe he could get brownie points for being nice to Kurt's friends…

"Kurt, Sam," Puck replied. He tapped the car door and looked to Blaine. "See ya 'round, babe," and with a wink he was gone. Blaine giggled (freaking _giggled_ ) and smiled like a loon.

Sam would _kill_ to have that kind of game. Or just to have Kurt smile at him like that. Abandoning that train of thought, Sam got to introducing his best friend to his newest friend. "Blaine, Kurt. Kurt, Blaine."

"Hey!" Blaine called winningly.

Kurt greeted him with an uncharacteristically shy wave. Sam decided he needed to move things along. He was having trouble containing his excitement and wanted to be in the car alone with Blaine so that he could let out the squeal that was trying to make its way out of his throat.

"If you're all done moving, Kurt is going to follow us home and take a look at my car," said Sam.

Blaine bit his lip in an attempt to keep from smirking. Kurt was _so_ his friend's type. He couldn't wait until they were alone so he could tease him mercilessly. _But then again, maybe not_ Blaine thought as Noah Puckerman waved to him as he pulled out of the lot in his pickup. He could _feel_ the smirk Sam was wearing inside…

"All done!" he replied, looking to Kurt. "Are you ready to go now or do you need to stop at home first?"

"All ready, I'll just send my dad a text." Kurt turned to Sam and smiled. "Sooo, see you there." He waved goodbye to Blaine as he jogged (pranced) over to his baby.

Sam hurried to get into the passenger seat of Blaine's S Class. Quickly shutting the door, he looked to his best friend's smirking face. "Shut up," he said with a laugh. Blaine shook his head with a smile.

"Fixing your car, huh?" he teased.

"Mohawks, huh?" he countered. Blaine flushed and turned his eye to the road. Sam smiled. _That's what I thought._

Before long, Blaine pulled into Sam's long driveway and parked next to Sam's immobile Camaro. The three teens got out and congregated around the yellow sports car. Sam and Blaine looked to the delicate boy for directions.

"Alrighty, start her up," Kurt commanded.

Blaine got behind the wheel and grabbed the spare key in the center console. He smirked at Sam as he fired up the engine.

"Hrmm, pop the hood?" Kurt requested.

"Thanks so much for doing this," Sam said as Kurt propped the hood of the Camaro up.

"Don't mention it. I've been dying to get under the hood of this car as soon as I saw it."

Sam nearly choked as he was assaulted with images of Kurt under something _other_ than just his hood. Looking skyward, Sam prayed for the strength to make it through the day without embarrassing himself. From the look on Blaine's face, it was going to be a loooong afternoon.


	10. Peaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again! Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! Real life kind of got in the way of my writing becauuuuse… my soul sister got engaged! :D Joy and rapture! I've been in the midst of planning the proposal and then celebrating so this just kind of got pushed to the back burner :(
> 
> Alright, one more A/N. I was hoping I could avoid this but someone noticed so I'll clear it up. I messed up! I totally know a Navigator is a Lincoln, but in the first chapter I went back and forth over whether Kurt should have a Navigator or and Escalade, I decided on Navigator but I still wrote Caddy, like a spaz. I was just gonna let it go because I was lazy but I guess I'll go back and fix it :P So, from now on I'll write Lincoln instead of Cadillac, just fyi.
> 
> Okie doke, new chapter! Looooong one! There will be lots of stuff happening in here. Enjoy! Betad by the lovely **StarfireEyes**! ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Glee :(
> 
> WARNINGS: Boy/boy love, language, homophobia, angst, etc.

Sam was right, it _was_ a long afternoon. Kurt looked over the entire Camaro and it was officially pronounced dead at 4:13 pm. The pale teen was confident that his father had all the parts necessary to get his car up and running but he wanted to check. As Kurt went to sit in his Navigator to call his dad, Blaine turned to him with a predatory grin.

Expecting some kind of teasing comment about his oh-so-obvious-to-everyone-but-Kurt crush, Blaine surprised him. "I'll be right back."

As his friend bound up the steps, Kurt finished his conversation with his father. The smaller teen looked around for his companions and beckoned Sam over as he walked around to his trunk. Sam trotted over to the back of his Lincoln just in time to see Kurt tumbling over the back seat, ass over elbow, startling a laugh of out the blond teen.

Kurt popped up, shame faced, blushing something fierce. "Say. Nothing."

Sam shook his head, biting his lip to keep silent. "What did you want before that _didn't_ happen?"

Kurt glared at him before speaking, still rummaging around in the backseat. "I spoke to my dad, and we do have the parts, but there is no way I am going to bring them here in my baby. I can do a quick fix, just so we can get your Camaro to the garage."

Kurt emerged victorious from the back seat, holding a bundle of clothes. "But by the love of all that's fashionable, I am not doing it in my new Marc Jacob's pants. Can I go inside and change?"

"Oh, sure. Come on up," he replied while leading Kurt into his home.

As they neared the top of the steps, Sam couldn't help but feel elated that Kurt was going to be inside his house. Sure, it was just to change, but it was a start! When the two teens walked in to the house, Sam realized that he forgot to worry about what the hell Blaine was doing inside. Seeing his shark-like grin at him over his mother's shoulder sent the blond teen into a panic.

Patricia turned around and smiled warmly as she took in the delicate teen. Her smile widened when she saw how well dressed he was. Finally, a good influence for her son! Well, clothing wise, at least. Blaine was a wonderful boy, but he hadn't managed to succeed in introducing a little elegance in Sammy's wardrobe no matter how hard he tried.

If what Blaine told her was true, she would be seeing a _lot_ more of this boy. "Sammy, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh! Mom, this is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is my mom, Patricia Evans."

Patricia reached for the teen's fine-boned hand, shaking it firmly, while Kurt returned the gesture, bobbing his head in greeting.

"Ma'am," he said respectfully.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing? Call me Patricia, please. Will you be sticking around for dinner?" she asked slyly, pretending she couldn't see the look of absolute panic on her son's face.

"Oh, I don't want to impose…"

"Not at all! It's pasta night; enough for an army! You're welcome to stay if you like," she coaxed.

"Umm…" Kurt said uncertainly, looking to Sam for help.

The blond teen swiftly schooled his face into a welcoming smile, nodding encouragingly.

"I'd love to. Thank you ma—Patricia."

Mrs. Evans smiled in satisfaction. If she hadn't gone into fashion she would have made an excellent matchmaker; much better than that dreadful woman on Bravo. With her work done, she flounced off into the kitchen to get started on dinner.

Sam looked after his mother in betrayal. Too soon! This was too soon! He hadn't planned or thought of what to say or gotten everyone _else_ out of the house. Or cleaned his room. Shit, his room!

_Remain calm, Samuel, just remain calm. Show Kurt the bathroom… and then kill Blaine._

"Um, there's a bathroom at the end of the hall, door on the left," he said, pointing as Kurt disappeared down the hall. As soon as the blond teen heard the click of the door shutting, Sam strode over to Blaine.

"What did you do?" he hissed.

"Me?" Blaine said innocently. "I didn't do anything. Your _mother_ was the one that invited your future husband to dinner."

"He's _not_ my future husband! What are you talking about?"

"Oh, future love-slave, then?" the curly haired boy said with a smirk.

Sam sputtered in embarrassment while Blaine quickly moved out of reach. "I'll just go help your mother, shall I? Leave you two alone?" And with that, he was gone.

Sam furiously wished his blush away, not having the spare brain cells to come up with an excuse since most of his thoughts were in the gutter. _Thanks for the love-slave comments, Blaine_ he thought as he heard the creak of the bathroom door opening. Kurt stepped out looking… delicious.

Sam never thought he would be into the grease monkey look, but Kurt's garage clothes _did_ things for him. Skinny jeans stained with grease and oil, torn around the knees, a flimsy gray v-neck, stained with what appeared to be bleach. Kurt turned to close the door after him.

_Unf_.

There was a horizontal tear in the fabric between his knee and bum showing a glimpse of milky with skin.

_Just… unf._

Kurt smiled bashfully as he made his way down the hallway. He ran his fingers through his bangs self-consciously, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Okay, so don't judge me by my garage clothes. I don't like to wear coveralls, so I sacrificed some clothes that had gone out of season."

Sam shook his head incredulously. "What are you talking about? You look great."

"Yes, well, we'll have to agree to disagree. Um, should I just leave my clothes here or…?" the pale teen asked.

"Oh, right. You can leave them in my room." Sam tried not to freak out about the fact that he was about to have Kurt in his room. As he walked past the kitchen, Blaine stood at the breakfast bar holding some kind of sign.

_Get it, Evans!_

Sam glanced back a Kurt to see if he noticed the curly haired teen's shenanigans. The fair teen appeared to be taking in the décor, not paying attention to his _ex_ -best friend. Hurumph. Before the two teens could make it up the stairs, R2-D2 hopped into view, captivating one Kurt Hummel.

"Oh my goodness, who is this?" he cooed at the Frenchie pup. Placing his clothes on a side table, Kurt scooped up the whimpering puppy and cuddled him to his chest, gently bouncing him up and down. R2 licked Kurt's upturned nose, causing him to giggle elatedly and stare at the French bulldog in adoration. Sam idly mused he's give anything to have Kurt look at him that way.

"What's his name?"

"Oh, um, it's R2-D2," Sam answered bashfully. This was just the beginning of Kurt discovering his innate nerdiness. Hopefully it wasn't a total turn off. To his complete surprise, Kurt smiled in amusement and looked over R2 with an assessing eye.

"I love it! It suits him." And with one last kiss, he placed the pup on the floor and looked to Sam, waiting to follow him to his room.

Sam led him up the stairs, all the while being followed by R2 who had taken a shining to Kurt. He ran between Kurt's feet, rubbing himself on the slender teen affectionately.

_Slut_ he mused. _Such a cuddle slut._

Reaching his room, Sam felt the need to apologize. Gripping the handle, the blond teen looked over his shoulder at Kurt's interested face. "Um, sorry about the… well, you'll see."

Pushing open the door, Sam held his breath and waited for Kurt's judgment. When he was met with silence, he chanced a look at the delicate teen. Kurt was surveying his room with a look of surprised interest.

"I have to say, your room is nothing like I imagined, but now that I've seen it, I won't be able to imagine it any other way. I forget that people don't always have my taste." At Sam's confused look, he explained. "My room is very minimalist; grey and white and modern. I like to see what people keep in their room; it's like looking into their heads."

For one tense moment, Sam worried that Kurt would determine he was a lunatic-creeper-stalker-nerd and run out of the house screaming. When nothing of the sort occurred the blond teen had to admit that he _might_ be in the brink of a nervous breakdown; that he _might_ be overreacting. Maybe.

Kurt held his neatly folded clothes out like a ring-bearer pillow, wiggling them questioningly. Sam mentally slapped himself for becoming so distracted by the fair teen and gestured for Kurt to just set them any old place.

The slim teen opted to place them on the end corner of his bed, making Sam's stomach flip-flop. "Shall we go temporarily mend your Camaro?"

"Uh, yeah. Do you need my help? Should I change?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry about it; it's just a quick fix. It shouldn't take more than an hour," Kurt responded. "Ready?"

"After you," Sam said while gesturing for Kurt to precede him out the door. As Kurt walked in front of him, hips swaying back and forth enticingly as he climbed down the stairs, Sam could only hope he didn't come down with a sudden case of foot-in-mouth disease.

* * *

The next hour was an exercise in humiliation. All that bending and leaning and grunting was really doing a number on Sam's self-control. The fact that Kurt poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he was concentrating had Sam pressing his groin against the side of the Camaro in hopes that Kurt wouldn't notice the ever-growing bulge in his jeans.

Fortunately, Sam wasn't required to contribute much to the conversation while Kurt worked since most of the blood on his body wasn't circulating in the head on his shoulders. The slim teen was quite content to babble on about what he was doing to the car, other car's he had worked on, etc.

With a triumphant grin, Kurt emerged from under the Camaro. "Ta da!" he proclaimed. "It's nothing permanent, but it'll be able to make it to my dad's shop."

"Thanks for doing this, again," Sam said, perhaps a bit breathlessly. "Seriously."

"Don't mention it," said Kurt, the tips of his ears flushing. Kurt brought his hand up to sweep it through his bangs, grimacing when he saw its current greasy state. "Um, do you think I could take a shower? Will there be time before dinner?"

All Sam's hard work thinking pure thoughts was nearly undone at those words. Kurt Hummel was going to be in his shower. Naked. Naked in his shower. Just before the silence became unbearable, Sam finally managed to form a response.

"Oh, of course," he managed to stutter out. The two teens climbed the stairs back into the Evan's home, Kurt being careful not to touch anything. Holding the door open for the slender teen, Sam gestured for him to go up the stairs. "You can use the shower in my room. There's towels in the foldy closet in the bathroom. Just come back downstairs when you're all done. I'll probably be in the kitchen."

With a grateful smile, Kurt sped up the stairs and into Sam's room double-quick. Once he was sure Kurt was out of sight, the blond teen leaned against the wall and heaved a giant sigh of relief. He hadn't even known the fair-skinned teen for two weeks and he was already certain that Kurt was going to be the death of him.

Steeling himself, Sam pushed open the door to the kitchen and saw his mother and Blaine "innocently" chatting with one another as they prepared dinner. He placed his hands on his hips and glared for all he was worth. Blaine continued to look unrepentant but his mother's confident look faded into contriteness.

"Did—did something happen, Sammy?" she worried.

When Sam continued to glare, Blaine's smugness faded. Finally taking pity on them, the angry teen spoke his mind.

"I know that you both know I have _some_ kind of feelings for Kurt and you think you're helping and being cute, but it's just making things really difficult," he began. "I know you guys have the best intentions at heart, but I would really appreciate if you guys didn't meddle. This is… it's still really new and I kinda wanted to do this on my own; at my own pace because _I'm_ still trying to find out how I feel and Kurt's going through some difficult stuff and I don't wanna rush things and mess it up with him; if I even have a chance."

Finishing his monologue, Sam exhaled loudly and looked back at the two most important people in his life. He didn't want to yell at them or whatever, but he really needed them to understand this. It had nothing to do with the fact that Kurt was a guy and everything to do with the fact that this was the first time Sam had felt like this. _Ever_.

Blaine was the first to speak. "Sam, man, I'm… I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking; I just wanted to, I dunno, help you along? But you're right; this is your relationship and not really any of my business…" he trailed off, shame-faced.

Patricia just got teary eyes and hugger her son close, whispering "I'm sorry," in a choked voice. She pulled back and patted Sam's face maternally. "I'm so proud of you."

"Ma…" Sam said bashfully, scuffing the floor with his sneaker. She flicked her fingers at him, pointing the sink for him to wash his hands.

"Wash up and help your old mother," she commanded playfully, abandoning her sullen mood in a flash.

"Bite your tongue!" Blaine exclaimed dramatically. "You are the very picture of a spring day! A lovelier sight has never existed!"

Sam responded by flicking the excess water on his hands at the curly-haired teen, making his friend huff in mock outrage.

Patricia just shook her head fondly at the boys. On second they could surprise you with how mature they were; acting like everything you had ever hoped they could be and the next they could still be those little boys that had tickle fights in the kitchen.

As Sam and Blaine were setting the table (minus one, Robert was called to the office for some super important meeting or something) the door to the kitchen opened slowly to allow a very wet and clean Kurt slip through. Kurt's skin was still slightly pink from the heat of the shower, causing the blond teen to lick his lips unconsciously.

Blaine and his mother pointedly pretended not to notice Sam's inability to function. Patricia intervened before the delicate teen noticed Sam's infatuated expression. "I hope chicken carbonara and salad is alright with you, sweetheart. It's kind of an Evan's tradition on Sunday's; it's one of Sammy's favorites."

"Sounds great, Mrs. Evans," Kurt replied.

"Patricia," all _three_ of the others in the kitchen chorused.

"Right, sorry," Kurt said, skin pinking even further.

"Not at all, honey. It's nice to see a boy with manners these days." Patricia gestured for Kurt to take a seat as she finished cooking the delicious smelling pasta and tossed it onto a wonderfully chic serving platter. Blaine grabbed the wooden salad bowl and placed it on the table.

Everyone took their seats; Kurt last so he could just fill in the empty chair (some people were weird about their spots, okay?). Kurt felt a tendril of anxiety curl in his stomach over whether or not he would be expected to say grace.

His fears were unfounded and the other boys dug in immediately, Patricia smiling fondly at their antics while placing salad into her bowl daintily. Ever the courteous one, Kurt plucked up the courage to compliment Mrs. Evan's service ware.

"I love your serving platter. Twall is so classic," he said shyly.

Patricia lit up and launched into a discussion about things Sam couldn't really follow. Even though Kurt ended up talking to his mom more than him throughout dinner, the blond teen couldn't help but be happy that Kurt got along so well with the single most important person in his life.

* * *

Dinner passed in a blink and far too soon for his liking, Sam was walking Kurt down the steps to his Navigator. Blaine and his mom had mercifully stayed inside and he could only hope they weren't spying on him out of the kitchen/living room windows.

Sam knew he had _less_ than no game; he didn't need an audience to watch his fumbling attempts at flirting. Sam never thought he'd be grateful for destroying his car but boy, was he ever.

Kurt strolled to the back of his SUV and tossed his soiled clothes into the storage area. He turned to face Sam and slowly backed towards the driver's side door. He took a deep breath and smiled at Sam shyly. "Um, this was nice. It's unfortunate it stemmed from you wrecking that magnificent piece of mechanical engineering, but… nice."

Sam felt the goofiest, lamest, grin erupt on his face, but he didn't care. He only hoped he didn't scare Kurt away with his inane smile. "Yeah, it was."

Kurt suddenly shook himself and opened the door, turning to face him as he leaned against the seat. "Since I don't have camp anymore, I am going to go into work with my dad. After you finish getting knocked around by Neanderthals, you could drive that beauty over. If you want," he added in a rush.

"Yeah," Sam replied simply.

There was a soft click and then an ambient hum in the air. The day had finally faded into night, setting the off the outside lights. Sam thought the soft yellow glow of the lights made Kurt even more alluring. The silence between them was charged with _something_ neither boy could put their finger on. They stood, just staring at each other awkwardly, neither one willing to interrupt whatever was happening between them.

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, the slender teen bit his lip and raised himself onto his tip-toes, holding his arms out for a hug. Sam stepped forward and timidly wrapped his arms around Kurt's slim form while the other teen returned the tentative embrace.

Stepping back, Sam immediately started with his nervous hair-rubbing tick while Kurt giggled breathlessly. The blond teen could feel himself flushing to the tips of his ears.

"So, see you tomorrow?" Sam asked cautiously.

This time it was Kurt's turn to be dumbstruck. "Uh-huh."

Kurt hopped into his Lincoln and strapped himself in while Sam gently closed the door. He stepped back, because as much as he didn't want Kurt to leave, he _really_ didn't want his feet to get run over. With one last wave, Kurt pulled out of his driveway and began the drive home.

Sam exhaled explosively, spearing his fingers through his hair and tugging, making his hair stick up wildly. He was _this close_ to Googling flirting techniques. The tanned teen was _pretty_ sure that if he kissed Kurt he wouldn't have gotten a swift knee to the groin but he just wasn't certain.

The last guy he was with, Jesse, had been all over him. _Waaay_ too forward and aggressive and smug that Sam felt even less competent with guys than he did with girls, which was saying something. And after the Karofsky incident, Sam was even _less_ sure what to do.

_Shit_. Did he just mess up big time? Or get major brownie points? One thing was certain.

He was going to have to talk to Blaine.

As humiliating as it was going to be, he needed some serious help in the Hummel department. And after dinner, Sam was pretty sure his mom was already planning their wedding and would _kill_ him if he drove her new fashion-friend away because he was a relationship reject. As he trudged up the stairs, he noticed the curtains near the front door swish.

_Perfect. I'm so glad they saw that…_ Sam thought sarcastically.

As the muscular teen walked back inside he was relieved to see only Blaine looking at him guiltily.

"Well?" Sam asked tartly. Then, "Sorry, I just—I dunno."

Blaine went from contrite to contemplative in a second. "What is it?"

Sam heard his mother puttering in the kitchen. The thought of her overhearing this made the butterflies in his stomach rebel. "Not here. Can we…?" he trailed off, pointing up to his room.

Blaine nodded kindly and the two teens quickly found themselves ensconced in the relative safety of Sam's room. Idly petting R2 for comfort, the blond teen tried to gather his wits. Finally, Sam decided to just dive right in.

"I _know_ you know, but I really like Kurt," he began. "I don't wanna screw it up. I have even less of an idea of what I am doing with guys than I do with girls," he bemoaned.

"I _never_ shoulda set you up with Jesse St. James," Blaine lamented acidly. "He is _so_ not your type and he clearly _broke_ you."

Ignoring Blaine's outburst, Sam plowed on. "Like, it really sucks that I screwed up my car, but it's really awesome that it gave me an excuse to get to know Kurt better, you know? I just feel like he's so out of my league and that I could never keep him interested, even if I managed to hold it together long enough to ask him out."

Blaine looked at Sam disbelievingly. In a perfect world, they would have fallen for each other and it would have been so easy; like breathing. But, after that one kiss they hadn't felt drawn to each other at all, just the best of friends. The curly-haired teen just wanted his friend to be happy.

"Okay, first of all, anyone not interested in you is crazy and totally not worth your time. And _second_ of all; he so is! Half the reason I came inside is because you guys' ridiculous moon-eyes were making me sick!" he said with a smile, his tone belying his words.

Sam looked up from R2. "Really?"

"Yeah," Blaine soothed. "Okay, so, you _obviously_ know I was eavesdropping like a little girl. For a minute there it looked like you were going to kiss him. Why didn't you...?" He looked at Sam with caring eyes, not judging him for his hesitance like Wes and David would have done.

"I couldn't," Sam murmured. When Blaine gazed at him in confusion, Sam told him about what he saw in the locker room. Blaine looked horrified, on the verge of tears for a boy he barely knew. "It just felt wrong, so soon after. Like, without a date or anything."

The curly-haired teen nodded in understanding. Before he could respond, he was interrupted by a quiet rapping on the door. "Come in," Sam called.

Patricia poked her head in the door and noticed the serious tone of the room immediately. She could only assume that it had something to do with that charming boy Sammy seemed to have his eye on.

"Hey, honey, sorry to bother you but I forgot to mention this over dinner; Grandma Caldwell is going to be in town next week for her 75th birthday. We're throwing her a big party and she kept dropping hints about how the only thing she wanted for her birthday was to see her only grandson in a suit."

Patricia delivered the last line with a predatory grin. Sam groaned and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Blowing her children a kiss goodnight (she'd considered Blaine one of her own for years), she left them to their own devices.

As she left, Sam let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Blaine stood up and took R2 out of his friend's lax arms. "Lay down, get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Then you can get your football on, we can work on a game plan for you to get your adorable mechanic, and then you two can ride off into the sunset."

Sam lazily threw a pillow at Blaine, missing by a mile. Laughing, the curly-haired teen sauntered out of the room, secretly looking forward to seeing a certain mohawked football player.

* * *

Practice without Kurt sucked, and that was putting it lightly. Before Sam had gone to bed he had sat on Facebook for over an hour, hoping Kurt would get on and _maybe_ doing a bit of stalking. Finally, ever the voice of reason, Blaine had texted him around 10:30.

_Go to sleep, idiot! Getting your ass kicked at practice because you're half asleep won't help you woo Kurt._

Sam sighed and slapped his laptop closed and settled into bed grumpily. Damn Blaine and his logic.

Now Sam was sitting on the bleachers, studiously avoiding Finn's guilty glances and daydreaming about Kurt. If there was one good thing about this torturously long day it was seeing Finn get his ass handed to him during practice. Apparently, the teen couldn't do two things at the same time, so feeling guilty and paying attention to incoming tackles was just too difficult for the tall teen.

Sam spent most of the time he wasn't practicing trying to glare a hole into David Karofsky's head. He had never wished for someone to spontaneously burst into flames so ardently. His first instinct was to confront him about what he had witnessed but he felt it wasn't his place. Not like, say, if he were Kurt's boyfriend.

No matter. He could wait. In the mean time, he'd just plot all the ways he was going to _destroy_ the bulky teen once Kurt was hopelessly in love with him. A kid can dream, right?

Finally, _finally,_ practice was over. The blond teen decide to forgo showering in the locker rooms for doing it at home, where he could relax and get ready for what was sure to be a memorable afternoon with Kurt.

Sam jogged to the parking lot and saw Blaine's S Class parked on the side of the track. Instead of waiting in the air conditioned interior of the car, his curly-haired friend was leaning against the door, looking up through his lashes at one Noah Puckerman. He didn't like the way the mohawked teen was looking (read: leering) at him.

Noticing Sam's approach, Blaine looked to the muscular teen apologetically. Puck just shrugged and handed Blaine a slip a paper with a cheeky grin. Blaine unfolded it at smiled bashfully up at Puck, biting his lip shyly. With a nod towards Sam, Puck ambled toward the showers.

Sam went to the passenger side door and raised his eyebrow at his friend, causing Blaine to shrug coyly. The two teens settled into the car and began the drive back to Sam's. Blaine was chewing on his lip and grinning like a loon.

Even though Sam felt his big brother feelings rearing to the surface he felt happy for Blaine, since they were experiencing the same thing. "So, Puck, huh?"

"Yeah," Blaine said breathlessly. "What… what do you think?"

"I think… that he's definitely your type," he replied with a grin. "And apparently, he has a thing for hobbits."

"Shut up!" Blaine said playfully as he pulled into the driveway. "Now come on, let's go get you gussied up."

* * *

Kurt had been sitting in his father's office for about fifteen minutes now, banished there after one too many "accidents". He had dropped parts, countless tools, and kicked over a pan filled with absolutely _revolting_ sludge in it. The final straw came when the petite teen knocked over the radio, jamming it on some country station that had Jerry howling like a coyote.

If his dad suspected his unusual clumsiness had anything to do with the "friend" that would be coming by later, he tactfully didn't mention it. And it was probably for the best; he couldn't spill anything on himself in here. Well, other than the water he was drinking.

Kurt had frantically searched through the entirety of his garage clothes that morning. He finally settled on the most form-fitting pair of jeans he had and a paper-thin, super low V-neck that had been delegated to the garage drawer after a fatal encounter with a slushy. He wonderfully white tee was now a delicate shade of pink with white spots.

When he had looked around Sam's room he had noticed the blond teen had an affinity for quirky (adorably geeky) things. Along with a delicious leather belt, Tina had given him some wonderfully unique belt buckles for Christmas. He looked through them and eventually decided on a buckled shaped like an old-school Nintendo controller. A pair of converse completed the ensemble and then they were off to the shop.

Sitting in his dad's office, Kurt let his mind wander to the blond teen. His happy thoughts were soon cut short when he remembered something Sam had said that day in the locker room. He had dated Jesse.

Shit. He had dated Jesse.

Panicking, he hadn't even thought to consult his new friend about him maybe, sorta, kinda being infatuated with someone that was apparently his ex. Wrenching his phone out of his back pocket, Kurt scrolled to his friend's name and tapped out a quick message.

_Hey, Jesse. I kinda have something to tell/ask you._

A few moments later, he got a response.

_Should I be worried?_

Kurt sighed, typing back.

_Worried? No. Mad? Maybe…_

His reply came quicker this time.

_Spill, Hummel._

Taking a deep breath, Kurt contemplated how to get this in 140 characters. _One step at a time, I guess._

_Um, so you know that blond footballer I have been gushing to you about?_ _I think you may have dated him…_

Kurt held his breath while he waited for Jesse to text him back.

_Michael Jones?_

…What?

_Um, no._

_Caleb... MacSomething?_

Kurt was baffled.

_What? No! Jeeze, how many blondes have you dated? Sam Evans!_

How was it that, until now, Kurt had never found someone remotely homosexual and Jesse St. Jerkface has dated enough blondes to make the gay equivalent of Hugh Heffner jealous? Kurt's phone buzzed in his hands.

_Oh! He was adorable; all stuttery and timid. Are you trying to ask me if I'd shun you for dating my ex?_

This was promising.

_Um, yes? Maybe? It's not like he's even asked me or anything. Or kissed me! Or like, anything. Just, you know, in case._

Why did he send that?

_Aww, is he being all chivalrous and tentative while trying to woo the fair maiden? It's all you, Skurt. You'll make adorable gay babies together._

Sometimes Kurt wanted to strangle Jesse. How could he manage to embarrass him through a text message? Unfair. His phone buzzed again.

_Seriously, though. There were no hard feelings, we just didn't work. I was the first guy he'd been with and I came on too strong. I thinking of who I could set you up with and I was kinda sorry I lost his number._

Kurt smiled.

_Sometimes, you're alright St. James._

The response was immediate.

_You only wish you knew how "alright" I was ;)_

As Kurt was about to respond to Jesse, another text popped up on his screen.

_Sam_.

_Ohgodohgodohgod_ he thought anxiously. He looked at the clock on the wall. Nearly 3. _Breathe, Kurt._

He tapped a final response, to Jesse. A simple "Oh, hush". Not nearly as witty as he hoped, but he was dealing with the elation/terror at being texted by his crush for the first time. Steeling himself, Kurt opened the text.

_hey there_

So simple, but Kurt felt his heart flutter in his chest.

_Hello._

He realized he was wearing a huge smile that everyone and their brother could see through the glass enclosure. He quickly sat in his father's office chair and spun it to face the television and the one solid wall in the office. His phone vibrated in his hand.

_is it still ok for me to come to th garage? I dont wanna bug you if youre busy._

Kurt clenched his jaw together to keep from squealing in delight.

_Nope, not busy at all. Head over whenever you're ready. Do you need directions?_

Kurt idly swayed back and forth in the office chair while waiting for Sam's response. Before he could get too comfortable, his phone buzzed.

_nah, I googled it. The directions seem pretty straightforward._

Kurt smiled and ran his fingers through his bangs, twisting them into submission.

_Alrighty. Call me if you get lost. Or breakdown._

He pressed the phone to his face and felt it pulse against his nose.

_Haha, k. on my way_

Kurt lost track of how long he sat in his father's chair, reveling in the warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Finally, the delicate teen got up and slipped his phone into his pocket, seeking out his father. He found him covered in grease, hitting the radio with a wrench in hopes it changes the station.

"Sorry," Kurt apologized again.

"Don't worry about it, Bambi. It's just an excuse to get a new one."

"Right. Um, so, my friend is on his way over. It's still okay that he comes, right?" Kurt asked.

His dad looked around the shop with a calculating eye. "Sure, of course. But all the lifts are being used and we really need to do Mr. Alan's Bentley before the day is over, so you guys may have to wait a bit."

"No problem," Kurt replied with a smile. And then quietly, "Thanks, Daddy."

Burt brought his hand up to ruffle his son's hair, causing Kurt to shriek in indignation. And then go into a full scale panic as a yellow Camaro pulled into the parking lot of the shop. Of _course_ Sam would arrive after his father ran his sludge covered fingers through his prized locks.

Kurt briefly debated whether or not he could run to the bathroom and do emergency hair repairs before Sam saw him but he wondered too long and was spotted. Sam smiled and waved at him happily and Kurt found his feet carrying him over to the blond teen of their own volition.

As Kurt walked over to the muscular teen, he noticed his appearance. _Wow,_ he thought. _Just—I, um, wow._

Sam was wearing a light blue shirt with 8-bit Mario characters on it ( _We match!_ he thought ecstatically). The shirt clung to his biceps and pecs deliciously. He was wearing a pair of khaki-colored cargo shorts and leather flip-flops and he looked so wonderfully tan and beachy and unique (well, compared to Ohio boys) that Kurt's breath caught in his throat.

Sam shook his damp hair and pushed his aviators on top of his head and it gave Kurt the excuse to stare into his sparkling hazel-green eyes. When they finally reached one another, the blond teen surprised him by immediately reaching for a hug. Kurt reciprocated, lifting onto his tip-toes in excitement.

He'd have to watch that; it was one of his tell-tale signs of happiness and his dad was sure to notice. He didn't want Sam to get a huge dose of Papa Bear Burt the first day they met.

As they pulled back, Kurt smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm all sweaty and messy and… greasy."

"Psh, not even!" he replied.

"Was the ride over here okay? It looked like it was going to hold up but you never know," Kurt rambled nervously.

"It was fine; you did a great job, seriously. I'm impressed… and kind of embarrassed that I destroyed my car going over a pothole like an idiot…" said Sam, trailing off bashfully.

"Don't be. Ohio has some terrible roads, especially for a sports car like yours."

There was a moment of charged silence between them. Their eyes met and the two teens laughed and the tension was effectively broken.

"So, we're a bit busy at the moment; all the lifts are taken. It'll be a little bit before I can get to work on your car."

"Hey, no problem. There's no rush, really. Thanks again, by the way" Sam said sincerely.

Kurt shrugged shyly, scuffing his feet on the ground. In the momentary silence, Kurt heard the other teen's stomach growl. He looked up in to Sam's face and watched a flinch bloom across his attractive features.

"I… may have been so anxious to get here that I forgot to eat after camp…" he admitted.

Kurt's heart started to pound; this was the perfect excuse for them to get away from his father's watchful eyes. "Um, do you want to get something to eat? I know a really good place, not too far from here…" Kurt tried to ignore the fact that his voice had come out shaky and timid hoped that Sam did too.

"Yeah, that would be great," replied Sam. Kurt noticed with some small amount of satisfaction that Sam's voice wobbled too.

"Um, let me just grab my wallet," Kurt said while turning to hustle to his father's office. Before he got two steps, Sam gently caught his forearm, preventing further movement. He looked to the taller teen in curiosity.

"Don't worry about it; my treat. It's the least I can do."

The butterflies in his stomach exploded into motion. A boy was buying him lunch. A wonderfully sweet, blond, gorgeous boy was buying him lunch. "Thanks," he breathed.

Before the teens separated, Kurt saw his father coming over to them.

_Damn. Damndamndamn._

Kurt turned to his dad and tried to convey "Don't you dare say anything to embarrass me or frighten him away" with his eyes. From his father's bewildered expression, Kurt had to assume he failed.

"Hey, Kurt. This your friend?" he asked tersely.

"Uh, yeah. Dad, this is Sam Evans. Sam, this is my dad, Burt Hummel."

Sam held out his hand to Kurt's father. "Nice to meet you, sir," he greeted respectfully. "Thank you for the help."

Kurt saw his father relax minutely. _Thank goodness_. Politeness always went a long way with his father. It didn't hurt that he had told his dad that Sam was one of the only good things about football camp; that he didn't care about the ugliness and hatefulness of other teenage boys and wanted to be his friend anyway.

"Don't mention it," he said with a shrug. He turned back to his son, taking in his blush. _Oh. Ohhhh. Well._ Burt resisted the urge to toss Kurt over his shoulders or lock him in his room forever and ever. He knew this day would come, but he didn't think _any_ father was really ready for it. He was interrupted from his train of thought when his son spoke up again.

"Since it's so busy here, we're going to go down to Star Fruit's for some lunch. Is that…okay?"

Star Fruit, excellent. Burt could trust Maggie to keep an eye on the boys and report back to him later. "You go ahead. Take your phone." Kurt smiled and hugged him in gratitude. _Still my little boy_. Burt smirked and brushed his thumb over Kurt's cheek, leaving a black smear in its wake. With one last (stern) look at Sam, Burt went back to work.

Kurt turned to Sam. "Ready?"

Sam nodded with a smile. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. "You have a bit of grease. Just….here," he whispered. He reached forward and gently wiped Kurt's cheek, then displaying his hand to show the smudge before he rubbed it off on his jeans.

"Thanks," Kurt breathed. "Um, do you mind walking? It's not too far."

"Not at all; I kinda love the summer."

Kurt looked to Sam's sun (and chemically) bleached hair. "Of course you do," he teased.

Sam nudged his with his shoulder and the two began the short walk there. Before long, the quirky café/shop came into view and Kurt looked to the blond teen to judge his reaction. He turned to Kurt and smiled blindingly.

"Awesome," he said simply.

_Points. Major points._

The bell jingled as they walked in and Kurt noticed that his Aunt was quite busy at the counter. He sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. Maggie could smell blossoming relationships from a mile away and it seemed that she had scented Kurt's.

_Please don't meddle. Please don't meddle._

Maggie simply smiled predatorily and went back to a young girl questioning her about the authenticity of the saffron they carried.

"This place is so cool. I wish we had something like it closer to me," Sam mused.

Kurt smiled and nodded understandingly. How could you _not_ want a place like this near you? The delicate teen led Sam to the prepared meals and pointed to the menu above the case as well. Kurt grabbed a "Macabre" salad and moved out of the way, letting Sam look his fill.

"I'm going to grab a piece of fruit," he told Sam before wandering around the fragrant piles of fruit. He snagged some strawberries and meandered back over to the muscular teen who was looking quite perplexed.

"Can't decide?" Kurt quipped.

Sam looked to the slender teen and sighed in exasperation. "No! But I narrowed it down to two; Roast Beast or the Night Club."

"I've had the club, it's really good. If that helps," Kurt replied.

"It does," and with that, Sam grabbed the massive turkey club sandwich.

Kurt held up the container of strawberries he grabbed. "Do you like strawberries?"

"Love 'em" Sam replied with a smile.

Kurt squealed in delight inside his head. He may or may not have had dreams about eating strawberries with his crush. The setting was a little different than outside his aunt's store, but it was good enough. Sam's eyes lit up when he saw the drink containers near the front of the store; huge, clear canisters that housed different iced drinks daily (hot for winter, of course). Kurt poured himself cucumber water while the blonde teen selected the largest cup and got peach tea.

"All set?" he asked Kurt. The delicate teen nodded and gestured to the counter where Maggie laid in wait, magenta nails drumming on the surface of the till.

"Hey, Kurt honey. Give your auntie a kiss," Maggie demanded. Kurt rolled his eyes and pecked her on her powdered cheek. He inhaled the familiar scent of MAC and smiled. He loved this woman. And then she trained her bespectacled eyes on Sam. And yet sometimes he hated her so very much.

"Well, hel _lo_ there, tall, blond, and handsome," she purred. "You takin' care of my baby today?" she asked sweetly. Kurt heard it for what it was; a threat. _Take care of him of I will cut you._

Sam laughed good-naturedly and met Maggie's glinting eyes. "Yeah, lunch is on me. Least I could do until I find a better way to thank him for helping me with my car."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" Translation: _You best stay sweet or I will end you_.

Sam seemed oblivious to the undercurrents in the air, handing over his credit card when she finished ringing them up. Maggie looked around the tall teen and looked at Kurt. He could tell from her expression that he would be getting a phone call later and he had a lot of dishing to do.

Maggie handed Sam back his card and Kurt gathered their food while Sam signed the credit slip. "We're just going to go sit outside," Kurt explained. The blond teen grabbed their drinks and the two teens claimed a round cement table with curved benches and a cheery salmon-colored umbrella shooting up from the middle of the table.

The teens separated their lunches and dug in. Well, Sam dug in, Kurt picked at his Cobb salad daintily. Sam took a long sip of his ultra-sweet peach tea and smiled blissfully. Kurt shivered in horror.

"I don't know how you can stand that!" Kurt laughed. "It's _so_ sweet!"

Sam laughed back and just shrugged. "I'm from the South. I've pretty much been drinking this since I was a fetus."

"Oh? Where are you from, originally?" Even though they had only been there for a moment, Kurt was grateful that conversation wasn't stilted or painful.

"My parents are from Louisiana. As much as they loved it there, my dad's business took them here when I was in middle-school and we never left. My mom flies to New York once or twice a month; she works for Michael Kors. We go back as often as we can."

"Do you miss it? Ohio is a lot different."

Sam put down his sandwich and looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I do miss it, but I like it here too. I've been here for long enough that this feels like home too."

Kurt smiled, and conversation continued on without pause, touching on subjects like music (obviously), favorite books, movies, colors, etc. As Kurt was talking about his love of shopping, the blond teen suddenly looked elated and then very nervous before he spoke again.

"So, hey. Um, I noticed that after practice and, like, right now, you dress really well…" he trailed off.

"Thank you," Kurt murmured. If that wasn't a compliment, the delicate teen didn't know what was.

"Would you—would you wanna go shopping with me? Like, this weekend?" Kurt's heart swelled. "Um, my grandmom is coming down for her birthday and we're having a fancy dinner. She's hinted pretty heavily that she wants me to wear a suit. Um, I trust you not to make me look like an idiot. That is, if you want to," he finished with a blush.

"Yeah. Um—I, yeah, I'd love to," Kurt stuttered. His hands were trembling and he dropped a half-eaten strawberry onto his pants, leaving a pink ring on his jeans.

"Great," Sam replied with a goofy grin.

Kurt could get used to that.

* * *

The two teens made their way back to the shop, hyper-aware of their hands occasionally brushing. As they walked into the shop, Kurt could see two of the lifts were open and that the rest of the crew was getting ready to leave and his dad was sitting in the office going over paperwork.

"Just a sec," Kurt said as he trotted over to his father. When he walked into the office Kurt noticed the clock on his desk read that it was six o'clock. Where had the time gone? "Hey, Dad. Is it okay if I put Sam's car on the lift now?"

Burt glanced out the windows, seeing the shop emptying for the evening. "Go ahead."

As Kurt left the room, his father called him back. Pausing in the doorway, Kurt turned to look at his father.

"Have a good time, Bambi?"

Kurt smiled sweetly. "Yeah," he replied softly.

Burt smiled and looked back to the papers. "I think I am just going to leave this for the weekend. Will you be alright here by yourself?"

Inside, Kurt was flabbergasted. His dad was going to leave him to close the shop, _alone_ , with a boy he most definitely liked. Who has this and what had he done with Burt Hummel? _Just go with it_ …

"Yeah, I know how to close up. Um, do you want me home by a certain time?"

Burt grimaced and sighed. "No, it's summer. School starts soon; enjoy yourself. Just… be careful, yeah?"

Kurt crossed the room and kissed his father on the cheek. "I will," he whispered. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Kurt walked out to the parking lot and found Sam perched against the hood of his Camaro, phone in hand. He looked up at the sound of Kurt's approach and smiled as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Okay, we're all set to get her on the lift. Gimme the keys, blondie," Kurt teased.

"Don't trust my driving skills?" Sam asked dryly.

"Oh, I do. I've just been looking for a reason to get behind the wheel of this beauty all day."

Sam laughed uproariously and handed over the keys. Kurt maneuvered the car into position and drove onto the risers, reveling in the feel of the supple leather under his hands. Getting out, Kurt walked over to the hanging remote and raised the car to a workable level.

Sam walked cautiously over to a chair placed near the end of a worktable. "I'm not going to get in the way if I sit here, am I?"

"Nah, that's fine."

Kurt pulled over a tool tray and got to work. "I don't know that I'm going to be able to get everything done tonight, we'll see though,"

"Take your time. My mom said I could use her car until this is finished. She says thanks for this as well."

Kurt smiled and got to work, chatting idly with the blond teen and falling for him more and more.

Hours passed and found Sam standing under the car in the glow of the shop, listening intently to what Kurt said. It wasn't that he had any interest in mending cars; he was enraptured by the sound of the slim teen's voice. Kurt was truly stunning in his element.

At this moment, Sam had never been more grateful to his parents. If they hadn't listened to him, if they had made him stay at Dalton, he may never have met this spectacular boy. Sam was surprised at the depth of his feelings for a boy he had only just met.

He couldn't help but be hopelessly charmed by Kurt's sweet, soft voice and his vivaciousness. Sam wasn't sure that he would be able to smile as much as Kurt had since the Karofsky incident.

Outside there was a cacophony of insects, the buzzing and chirping reminding Sam of Louisiana. A homey, warm feeling settled deep in his chest as he thought of all the things he wanted to share with Kurt, if he ever got the nerve to just reach out and take him. Sam was dreading Blaine's arrival to take him home more and more as the minutes passed.

So here he stood, toe-to-toe with the boy of his dreams (literally), staring into his face while Kurt's gaze was focused upward, adjusting this and that on his Camaro. The delicate teen reached onto his toes, biting his lip in concentration. The blond teen let his eyes drift down the slender teen's body and settled on the strip of skin where his shirt had ridden up.

The milky white skin, glinting with sweat, held Sam's focus for a long while. Kurt shifted down and the glimpse of skin was once again hidden from sight. He once again focused on Kurt's eyes, watching the play of lights and shadows on his face. He was completely enamored.

Kurt had kept up a steady commentary on his progress, usually content to fill the silence by himself. Now, he looked to Sam expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer. Kurt's soft face lit up with a gentle smile.

"Sam, have you been listening to a word I've said?" he asked good-naturedly.

"No," he said softly.

Before Kurt could respond, Sam took one last step, closing the remaining distance between them. Kurt's let out a quiet gasp, shifting the wrench in his hand awkwardly. Sam slowly reached up and took it out of his lax fingers and tossed it on the ground.

His fingers clasped Kurt's waist, his wrist, thumbs gently caressing the skin found there. He slowly pulled the slender teen's arm toward him and placed it over his shoulder while its twin found itself just beneath Sam's ribcage.

Sam gently cupped Kurt's flushing cheek and pressed in close to the shivering teen. He leaned forward, not quite touching Kurt's lips with his own. The blond teen gently brushed his nose against Kurt's own, back and forth, back and forth.

_Eskimo kisses_ Sam thought idly, feeling his insides flutter even more.

Sam opened his eyes and stared in to the wide, clear blue eyes only inches from his own. Sam couldn't put his feelings into words if he tried, so he hoped his eyes were doing the talking.

_You're beautiful. You're prefect._ And then _Please don't hate me for this. Please don't be too soon._

Finally, _finally_ , Sam gently pressed a kiss to the side of Kurt's mouth, then the other. The slender teen exhaled shakily, fingers digging into Sam's shoulders. Kurt, it turned out, was an excellent eye-talker.

_Please_ they said. _Please._

Sam brought both his hands to Kurt's neck, fingers softly rubbing his jaw. "Is this-"

"Yes!" Kurt gasped. Then softer, "Yes."

The fair teen's eyes fluttered closed and he tilted his head up, seeking Sam's lips and nearly jumped when they (finally!) met his own. The blond teen gently massaged his full lips over Kurt's, causing him to whimper desperately.

Sam felt a zing of arousal shoot through him. Eager to discover what _else_ made Kurt whimper, he eased back, only to press forward again and nibble on the slender teens bottom lip, turning Kurt in to a whimpering, quivering mess.

Sam pulled back to look at Kurt's dazed face and allowed himself to feel a bit smug. He felt the corners of his lips tug upwards and he let out a happy chuckle.

Kurt opened his heavy lids and saw Sam's besotted expression. He felt tears prick his eyes and he surged forward, desperately pressing a kiss to Sam's smiling mouth. The blond teen quickly encircled Kurt in his arms and returned the kiss with fervor, feeling the slim boy raise onto his toes.

Breaking apart for air, Sam gently nudged at Kurt with his nose. Sheesh, trust him to develop a nose fetish. With a desperate groan, the blond teen pulled Kurt even closer. He gently lapped at the seam of the smaller boy's lips, coaxing them to open for him.

Kurt parted his lips, tentatively returning the slick caresses with his own tongue, spearing his fingers in Sam's thick hair. Kurt's senses were filled with Sam; his smell, his taste, his touch. As Sam deepened their kiss, slowly tangling his tongue with Kurt's own, they were blinding by the bright lights of a Mercedes S Class.

Sam felt his pocket buzz and nearly groaned in protest. Instead, he pulled his mouth away from Kurt with a wet smack. He exhaled loudly and pressed his forehead against Kurt's and simply stood there for a moment.

He finally opened his eyes and saw Kurt staring at him, his eyes soft with some emotion Sam was almost too afraid to name. The blond teen nodded towards Blaine's car in apology. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Kurt said breathlessly, still shaking minutely.

Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket again, making him jump. Kurt wrinkled his nose in pleasure, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "Go," he whispered.

Sam cupped his cheek with one hand, pressing one final, lingering kiss to the side of Kurt's mouth before ambling towards the blinding headlights of his friend's car.

As Sam slid into the passenger seat, Kurt brought his hands to his lips his wonder. He could still feel the muscular teen all over him, taste him on his lips.

_Peaches_ he thought wistfully. _Maybe sweet tea isn't so bad after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finis!
> 
> What do you think? I didn't get as far into the plot at I would have liked, but the next chapter should be up in a day or so. It's date time!
> 
> Don't worry, some steaminess ahead in the next chapter :D
> 
> Ciao, lovelies! 3


	11. Awesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's just get right to it! Just a quick reminder that this _is_ a fic that deals with Mpreg because it _will_ pop up in this chapter but there will be no preggo boys in this story. Perhaps a sequel….
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, just my own ideas and deviations from the original plot.
> 
> WARNINGS: Don't pretend you don't know them :P

Sam lay in his bed, thinking of Kurt. Well, thinking of kissing Kurt, to be more specific. Their kiss was on a loop in his mind and each time he replayed it he smiled a little wider.

Blaine had been beside himself when Sam had got into the car, convinced he had ruined everything. After his initial text of _Here!,_ Blaine has witnessed them kissing and panicked, sending another text reading _OMG I'M SO SORRY!_

After the curly-haired teen was certain he hadn't ruined everything with his unfortunate timing he _demanded_ to hear the events of the afternoon. Repeatedly. In great detail.

Finally, after Blaine had forced Sam to try on every stitch of clothing he owned to plan his sorta-maybe-date-with-Kurt outfit, he gave him a pat on the head and flounced off to his own room. Judging from his friend's own smiling face, it was to talk to Puck.

Sam sighed happily and shifted in bed, accidentally jostling R2 and eliciting a sweet puppy grunt. He gently pet R2 before reaching for his phone. He scrolled to Kurt's name and stared at it indecisively. He glanced at his alarm clock. 1:13.

Would it be rude to text so late? When did he usually go to bed? Was Kurt a light sleeper? The last thing he wanted to do was get the boy mad at him before their date, or whatever.

Instead, Sam reached for his laptop and logged onto Facebook. His eyes immediately searched for Kurt's picture to chat.

_Hrrm, on but idle._

He clicked on Kurt picture and typed a quick message.

**Sam Evans** hey.

Kurt responded in a gratifyingly short amount of time, making the warmth in Sam's chest seep into his bones.

**Kurt Hummel** Hi there.

**Sam Evans** did I wake you?

**Kurt Hummel** No. I've been trying to sleep for a while without success. What are you up to so late?

Sam hesitated before typing out a response. He decided to be honest. Hey, his instincts hadn't failed him yet!

**Sam Evans** relaxing with R2. Thinking about the garage…

Sam held his breath and stared at the little speech bubble that indicated Kurt was typing.

**Kurt Hummel** Me too…

_YES!_

**Kurt Hummel** I had a really good time, even without the kissing…

**Sam Evans** Yeah : )

**Sam Evans** um… is it stupid/too soon to say that i miss you? or like, that I wish you were here.

_Please please don't be too soon…_

**Kurt Hummel** No.

**Kurt Hummel** Um, I do too…

Sam wiggled his toes excitedly and grabbed his Frenchie pup, placing an enthusiastic kiss to his head. He plopped him down near his side and got back to Kurt.

**Sam Evans** awesome

**Kurt Hummel** Did you… want to come over to the garage again tomorrow? Your car won't be ready until Sunday-ish but… I'd like to see you again. Like, sooner than Saturday…

**Sam Evans** yeah. Yeah, that would be great :D

**Kurt Hummel** :)

Sam smiled and thought of his parents, for some strange reason. He recalled his mother bringing lunch to his dad, and vice versa, when they were at work. Hrmm…

**Sam Evans** Um, since yu showed me that great place for lunch today want me to bring somethin tomorrow?

**Kurt Hummel** That would be really nice :)

The blond teen wriggled in pleasure before responding. He only hoped Kurt was as nerdily excited as he was… and he had the perfect idea.

**Sam Evans** how do you feel about seafood?

**Kurt Hummel** I love it. And I'm intrigued.

**Sam Evans** um, i know this place that makes amzing grilled fish and shrimp tacos. Is that alright?

**Kurt Hummel** Sounds really good. I've never had it but I trust you :P

**Kurt Hummel** Now, try to get some sleep. I don't want you to get tackled by Karofsky because you were up late talking to little ol' me.

Sam smirked as he tapped out a cheeky response.

**Sam Evans** might be worth it

**Kurt Hummel**...hush. And goodnight, Sam.

**Sam Evans** Night :)

Sam slowly closed his laptop, and placed it on the floor. Cuddling into the warmth of his sheets, Sam found it much easier to settle down with the knowledge that he would be seeing Kurt again after practice.

* * *

The next day, Sam borrowed his father's car to go to camp so he could see Kurt as soon as practice ended. His dad was working from home and he was excited to show it to Kurt; it was an Aston Martin Vanquish.

And _maybe_ so they wouldn't be interrupted again. Maybe. Just in case. He tried not to dwell on it, in case he jinxed it or something.

That day after practice, he took his time in the showers, hoping to be the last one in here so he didn't get weird questions about why he brought a few different options and a bunch of grooming products. Well that, and the fact that it had rained _all day_ and he had mud in places that were really, _really,_ unfortunate.

Luckily, by the time Sam finished washing the grime from his body, the locker room had cleared out. Shaking the water from his hair and wrapping a towel around his waist, Sam grabbed his shower caddy and made his way over to his locker.

Now that the hiss of the shower was cut off, the blond teen could hear the rain rapping loudly against the roof. He smiled and let the rhythmic sound of the rain relax him. Sure, getting stuck in the rain majorly sucked, but being inside while the steady "whoosh" of the water filled the air was hypnotic.

Breaking out of his reverie, the muscular teen pulled out his duffel bag and rifled through it. As he swiped on his deodorant (Old Spice, obviously) he contemplated what he had brought.

Blaine had been trying to convince him to wear more patterns (he said they brought out his eyes), so he slipped on a pair of white shorts with a fine, navy pinstripe. He looked over the three shirts he had packed. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, so the polo was out. And besides, didn't polo's scream golf club? Long sleeves were out too; he hated wet clothes and long sleeves were just asking for it. Only one choice left.

He slipped on the gray shirt he had bought at Blaine's urging during their trip to Hollister. That trip seemed forever ago when in reality it had been less than a month. The plain shirt was crew neck and it clung to his arms and pecs nicely. Sam wasn't embarrassed to show off what he worked _damn_ hard for.

He was glad he didn't bring flip-flops to wear; the last thing he needed was to bust his ass in front of the perpetually gracefully Kurt. He slipped on his low-cut socks and jammed his feet into some trendy navy boat shoes David had given him for Christmas. He ran his fingers through his hair and declared himself ready. As he passed the set of mirrors, he gave himself a thumbs up and a nervous smile.

He pushed open the heavy locker room doors and stared outside. It. Was. Pouring. Sam could practically hear his mother scolding him for leaving his umbrella in the car, where it was so, so useful to him right now. The blond teen took a fortifying breath, steeling himself for the freezing onslaught of cold water.

Sam ran to his dad's car, mentally (and literally) cringing at the thought of his wet clothes all over his dad's pride a joy. Well, after him of course. And what his dad didn't know, couldn't hurt him. Unless it stained…

Throwing himself into his the Aston, Sam settled his bag on the floor of the passenger seat and fished his phone out of his pocket. Sam felt himself flush as he pressed speed dial 3 to send a message to Kurt. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he felt that he and Kurt would be talking enough for him to warrant a place on speed dial.

_all finished wth practice. Tacos still okay?_

Sam really wasn't concerned about the tacos. What he really wanted to ask was "Am I okay? Is _this_ still okay?" but he was scared of what Kurt's answer might be. Before Sam could fall further into his anxieties, his phone buzzed on his leg.

_Sounds great, I've been looking forward to it._

Sam allowed himself to do a crazy happy dance in the privacy of the car, pretty sure no one could see his spaz attack. His dance of glee was interrupted by his phone once again, another text from Kurt.

_And no texting while driving!_

The muscular teen felt warmth bubbling up on his chest and a silly, giggly happiness fill him to the brim. He needed to see Kurt, like now. Quickly (but safely) driving to the shop (with a pit stop at Compadres) he pulled into the parking lot of the garage and turned off the car, contemplating his next move.

The rain hadn't died down at _all_. If anything, it seemed to be pouring harder. And, of course, Sam hadn't retrieved the umbrella from the trunk of the car. Because, you know, that would make sense. Just as the blond teen prepared to make a run for it, a slim figure approached his car with a _massive_ umbrella.

_Kurt!_ He thought joyfully.

As the other teen drew closer, Sam could see a fond smile on his face. He came to a stop just in front on the driver's side door, gesturing for the taller teen to get under the cover of the umbrella. He grabbed the takeout bag and opened the door just enough to squeeze out.

While the umbrella was spacious enough for one, Sam had to press close to Kurt to prevent his butt from getting drenched by the rain. Not that he was complaining. The petite teen shook his head and before speaking.

"When I saw you sitting in the car, I figured it was because you didn't have an umbrella."

"How did you know it was me?" he asked.

Kurt gently bumped the rod of the umbrella against Sam's blond head. "We don't get a lot of blond teenagers around the shop. And I figured awesome cars probably ran in your family."

"Oh, right," he said lamely. He jiggled the takeout bag, drawing the smaller teen's attention to the paper monstrosity between them. "Hope you're hungry."

"Smells great," Kurt breathed.

The two teens shuffled into the warm, dry shop, sighing in relief. Kurt turned away from Sam to shake the water off the umbrella. The taller teen took this opportunity to subtly ogle the delicate boy's perfect bum. In his father's shop. He quickly averted his eyes, searching the area for Burt Hummel.

And found the garage to be completely deserted.

"Where is everyone?"

"Oh! Um, my dad sent everyone home. We never get any business in this weather and since tomorrow is Saturday, the shop doesn't open until noon," he said. Kurt's cheeks pinked as he continued. "I told my dad we wanted to get your car up and running and he said we could stay."

Sam tried not to let his excitement about being alone with Kurt show too much. He wasn't ready to share the other teen yet, and was looking forward to any time they spent together; he just hoped he didn't end up doing something to completely blow his chances with the gorgeous teen.

"Do you want to eat in the office, or just spread a blanket on the floor or…?" Kurt asked.

"Blanket," he said immediately. Then more sedately, "There's a lot of stuff, I don't wanna mess up your dad's office and make him hate me." Really, he was kind of in love with the idea of taking Kurt on a picnic, and even though the venue was a little unusual, it totally worked. And since meeting Kurt, he may have a thing for cars.

Kurt scuffed his foot bashfully for a moment and then went to spread an old plaid blanket underneath Sam's Camaro. A light was dangling from nearby, illuminating the underside of his car, giving everything underneath a soft glow.

Kurt went over to a fridge Sam hadn't noticed and grabbed two bottles of water before toeing his shoes off and getting comfortable on the blanket. Sam followed suit, kneeling on the worn cloth and unpacking their lunch.

"I got fish and shrimp, since I didn't know what you liked best," he explained. "Some chips and salsa too."

The teens ate and their chatter came easily. Kurt pushed his plate away first, stretching out and patting his stomach in satisfaction. His foot brushed against Sam's thigh, causing the delicate teen to flush prettily. After a moment of silent panic, Kurt decided to ignore it, happy for any excuse to touch the gorgeous teen.

Inside, Sam was crowing in delight. He could tell the other teen was feeling shy about touching him so he chose not to mention their closeness. He noticed that the slender teen had stopped eating. "Full already?"

Kurt smiled ruefully and looked as Sam through his bangs. "Gotta watch my girlish figure," he said coquettishly. He managed to keep his face serious for a moment before giggling childishly. "I'm just full. And besides, since I quit camp, I didn't lose as much weight this summer as I wanted to."

Sam frowned. He grabbed the foot touching him and shook it gently. "Hey… you look great. Really. You don't… you don't need to do anything…" he trailed off uncertainly. He knew this was a dangerous topic, especially with someone you wanted to be your significant other. He'd watched Wes and David get flayed by their girlfriend du jour enough times to be cautious.

Kurt looked at Sam skeptically but just let it go with a shrug and a bashful "Thanks". Conversation continued as Sam finished eating and then the two boys threw all the empty containers into the takeout bag and pushed it to the edge of the blanket.

Kurt came back to the soft blanket and sprawled on his side, looking at Sam. The blond teen chuckled and settled himself on his side as well. The fair teen avoided his eyes and picked at a loose thread in the pattern. Sam wanted to reach out and take his hand, curl his fingers around the long, slender digits, softly kiss each knuckle.

And why shouldn't he? Kurt hadn't rebuked him for anything so far. _Man up, Samuel_ he thought. _Just reach over and—_ but then Kurt started talking.

"So… um, I kinda have to tell you something," he murmured.

_Oh God, this is it. He has a boyfriend. He's secretly engaged. After meeting me he is totally off guys._ "Yeah?"

" Um, I lied. Your car is ready, I just—I just wanted to see you."

Sam smiled. He gave into the urge and took Kurt's hand and brought it to his mouth, sweetly brushing a kiss against the other teen's trembling fingers. "You're kind of awesome."

Kurt looked up from the thread he had unraveled to see if the other teen was sincere. Seeing Sam's open expression and warm smile made him fluttery in ways that were dangerous to the skinny jeans he was wearing. He rolled over onto his stomach, gently squeezing the hand that was holding his.

Sam scooted closer which encouraged Kurt to do the same until there were only a few inches between them. While they had eaten, the rain had eased a bit, but it still fell in thick curtains around the shop, obscuring them from view.

Burt had bought a new radio for the shop, unable to stand the country music or "singing" he was subjected to by his employees. Now, it was set on some soft, contemporary station and Hailey Williams had found her only exception.

This time, Kurt was the one to make the first move. He squeezed Sam's hand and breeched the distance between them until the long lines if their bodies were pressed against one another, the delicious heat scalding them. Kurt's side pressed in Sam's stomach and he could feel the play of the blond teen's muscles underneath his shirt.

Sam felt his heart pound against his chest, swearing it skipped a beat. He remained still, letting Kurt initiate this contact. _Kiss me,_ he thought. _Kiss me._

Sam beamed at the smaller boy, bumping their foreheads together. Kurt released a shaky breath before pressing their lips together quickly and pulling back, gauging the blond teen's expression. Sam smiled beatifically before moving in for another kiss.

The tanned teen brushed his lips against Kurt's in a long, slow drag. The fair teen's breathing was audible and shaky, his hands clutching at Sam's shoulder and fisted in his shirt. Sam softly sucked at Kurt's lower lip, relishing in the smaller boy's surprised gasp

The two traded relatively chaste kisses back and forth, losing themselves in each other. Sam trailed his hand down Kurt's body, settling at his hip. He let his fingers stroke the skin he found there, turning to face him. Pulling Kurt flush against him he deepened the kiss, easing his tongue between the petite boy's lips.

Kurt brought his hands up to cup Sam's face, before rolling onto his back. The muscular teen broke the kiss, propping himself up on his forearm. He stared into the smaller teen's eyes, smiling at the dazed expression. He slid his hand from Kurt's hip to the quivering planes of his stomach, slipping his hand under the fabric. "Alright?" he asked.

Kurt nodded shyly, "Alright."

That was all the encouragement Sam needed before pressing soft, sucking kisses down Kurt's pale neck. He kept his eyes on Kurt's flushed face, noting what made Kurt bite his lip, what made his gasp. The delicate boy threaded his fingers in his thick, blond hair and tugged gently.

Sam looked up into Kurt's eyes and quirked an eyebrow in question, still kissing his neck all the while.

"Come back up here," Kurt whispered throatily.

And Sam did.

Sam presses his tongue inside Kurt's mouth slow and wet and hot and _ugh_ , just perfect. And then it wasn't.

The two teens were startled apart by Kurt's cell phone shrieking _To Sir with Love_. Kurt cursed under his breath and looked to Sam apologetically. "Sorry, it's my dad."

_Denied_ Sam thought ruefully. He sat up and set himself to rights while the other teen had a hushed conversation with his father. The rain was finally easing up but it still looked terribly bleak outside. _Prolly just a break before it picks up again._

While Kurt spoke to his father, Sam checked his own phone. He had a few texts, mostly from Wes and David, teasing him about Kurt, sending him pictures of kissy-faces and suggestive phrases. _Idiots_ , he thought fondly. But there was also one from his mom.

_Did you make it to your friend's? Text me when you get this the weather is really bad…_

He tapped out a quick apology for taking so long and assured her he was fine. He tossed his phone down and flopped back onto the blanket, wincing when his head connected with the cement under the blanket.

_Smooth, Sam, real smooth._

Kurt giggled, drawing Sam's attention to the brunette teen. "Are you okay?" he asked with a grin.

Sam released an embarrassed chuckle. "I'm fine. Just, you know, my pride." The two teens laughed uproariously, grateful for the distraction.

"It's really coming down out there," Kurt remarks. "It's kinda crazy. But nice, you know."

And he did; he _so_ did. "Yeah," he replied simply.

"Oh, um, my dad actually called because of the weather," Kurt began. "He's been watching the news and it looks like it's going to get worse before it gets better. There's a flood warning in effect. It, um, it looks like you're going to be here a while…"

"Darn," Sam says softly, sarcastically. He meets Kurt's eyes and smiles sweetly, loving the flush on the shorter teens face.

Sam stretched and kicked the takeout bag. He reached forward and scooped it up. "Where can I toss this?" he asks. Kurt points to a trash bin near his dad's office and the blond teen slips on his shoes before ambling over to get rid of it.

Looking into the office, Sam notices a pile of old VHS movies and sees some of his all time favorites, _The Princess Bride_ and _The NeverEnding Story_.

"These movies yours?" He asks, jabbing at them through the glass.

"Uh, yeah," he replied bashfully.

" _Awesome._ "

Kurt lit up and mumbled " _You're_ awesome…" and then, "Want to watch one? I mean, we have time."

"Totally. Princess Bride?"

Kurt nods and slips into his own shoes before gathering up the blanket, shaking it out and shooing Sam into the office. The smaller teen tosses the blanket onto a low table in front of an old couch and sets up the movie.

Sam plopped on the couch and unlaced his shoes _again_ , sighing and wiggling his toes in relief and settling against the armrest. He looked up to find Kurt fast-forwarding through the previews and toeing off his own shoes, nudging them into the corner with a socked foot.

Sam had a brief crisis, wondering if it could be, you know, normal to be attracted to a foot, even one as perfect and cute as Kurt's, and _not_ be a total creeper. Sam shook off his potentially creepy attraction to the petite teen's foot as Kurt turned back to him, the movie playing behind him.

Sam had his arm over the back of the couch and patted the space next to him. The other teen curled into the space shyly. The blonde boy crossed his legs on the couch and grabbed Kurt's hand, entwining their fingers. The pale boy looked at their joined hands and then tentatively placed his head on Sam's shoulder.

As the movie progressed, Sam noticed a fine tremor in the other teen's body. "Cold?" he asked.

"Kinda, yeah," Kurt responded softly. "I just didn't want to move."

Sam felt the butterflies that _always_ seemed to be present when Kurt was around go into a frenzy. He reached forward and snagged the blanket from the coffee table and draped it over the two of them, encouraging Kurt to cuddle into his side.

_Perfect…_

The two of them were awoken by a crack of thunder, the movie long since over and the TV quietly playing static in the background. Sam glanced over at the office clock.

_8:32_

"Shit," he murmured as he stretched stiffly. Kurt was leaning heavily on his arm, rubbing sleep from his eyes and staring up at Sam. The taller teen pressed a lingering kiss to the other boy's sleep-swollen lips, reveling in the freedom to do so.

"I don't want to, but I should probably get going," he whispered. "We still on for tomorrow?"

Kurt nodded as enthusiastically as his sleep addled mind would allow. Sam couldn't help but laugh at the adorable, drowsy, _perfect_ boy in front of him. "Are you going to make it home?" he asked in amusement.

"Shush, you," Kurt scolded. "I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, have quite the ways to go. Text me when you get home?"

"Totally," Sam said goofily.

"Now go!" Kurt said with a mocking imperious wave as he laid down on the sofa, presumably for more sleep.

The blond teen sat on the coffee table, pushing his feet into his shoes and leaning over the other teen. Sam shook Kurt gently. "C'mon, Kurt, you gotta go too." Kurt made a disparaging sound and burrowed further into the couch.

The tanned teen rubbed Kurt's back insistently, using the opportunity to memorize the soft yet muscular plane of his back. "I'm can't be sure, but I have a feeling your dad would blame me for your disappearance if you didn't come home because you decided to sleep on an office couch. And I need you to be not grounded so I can see you tomorrow."

Kurt spoke into the cushions, his reponse muffled.

"What?" Sam asked through a laugh.

"I said, you're probably right," he responded thickly as he threw back the blankets. He stood shakily and toddled over to his shoes, jamming them on without untying them.

Sam folded the blanket and placed it on the couch. He patted his pockets, making sure he had everything he came with.

_Check_.

He looked to Kurt, reluctant to leave the boy. He gestured for Sam to precede him out of the office, hitting the lights and locking the door behind him.

Even with the massive cracks of thunder and lightning lighting up the sky, the rain had stopped. Well, for the moment. Even though he didn't want to leave, he knew he needed to take advantage of the break in the weather.

He help Kurt pull down and secure the garage doors until there was only one left. The teens stood under the doorway, looking at each other, unsure of what to say. Finally, Sam reached out and clasped Kurt's arm, holding him in place while he pressed a tender kiss to Kurt's lips, humming appreciatively when he reciprocated.

Before the kiss could become too deep, Sam pulled back regretfully as the sky crackled ominously. The blond teen looked to the sky and grimaced. Kurt nodded his head in understanding. "Go," he commanded softly.

With one last kiss, Sam trotted to the Vanquish, looking back at Kurt as he opened the door. With a wave, Sam got inside and buckled up. As he adjusted his mirrors, he saw Kurt shut the garage door and make his way to his Navigator. Noticing his stare, Kurt waved as he hopped into his SUV.

As Sam pulled out of the Hummel's garage and made his way home, he tried to contain his excitement. If today had been any indicator, tomorrow was going to be _awesome_. And with any luck, no one would fall asleep this time…

* * *

Kurt woke up bright and early the next morning, the butterflies in his stomach already working overtime. Last night, after the two of them had parted ways and managed to get to their respective houses, the boys ended up talking long into the night.

He managed to get home just in time to throw together dinner and placate his father for being absent (with a boy!) all day. Carole had looked on knowingly but had remained mercifully silent.

_I could really come to love that woman_ , Kurt thought fondly.

Pushing the covers to the end of the bed with his feet, Kurt stretched languorously before slipping out of bed. Last night, the two teens had decided to meet at Sam's house at 10:30, which left Kurt a good hour and a half to get ready.

_Oh, God! Should I have gotten up sooner?_ he thought frantically. Shaking the panic off, Kurt scurried into his bathroom.

He quickly shed his sleep clothes and turned the taps on, getting the desired temperature. Making sure his bathrobe and head towel were in place, Kurt stepped into the shower, sighing blissfully. He let his mind wander as he went through his routine.

Of all the things the two had talked about last night, whether or not this was a date had never come up. Both teens danced around the subject, too nervous to bring it up. Instead, they had agreed upon a time and place and moved onto other things.

Kurt had never felt this close to someone that wasn't in his family. Last night the two had touched on so many deep subjects; the loss of Kurt's mother, Sam's feelings of inadequacy, and on and on; nothing was off limits. Even so, there was one topic that Kurt dreaded coming up in conversation.

He was a carrier.

He had never shared that information with anyone outside his family, worried about their reaction. Sure, he could probably tell the girls, but it just felt… strange. He'd read enough horror stories online about carriers falling in love and getting pregnant only to be left by their partner once the baby had come, their purpose being served.

Carriers might be common knowledge, but they sure as hell weren't common.

Kurt was worried that _he_ would be overshadowed by what he could do, so maybe it was best to play this close to the chest. For now.

Done showering, Kurt turned off the tap and emerged from the shower, squeaky clean and jittery with nerves. Wrapping himself in his terrycloth bathrobe (silk and wet skin is _not_ pleasant, thank you very much) and swathing his head in a towel, the delicate boy made his way up the stairs to get some much needed coffee.

Kurt was thankful that, in a fit of preparedness, he had set the timer on the pot last night. The pale teen poured the scalding hot liquid in a mug and added just a touch of cream and sugar, savoring the strong brew.

Meandering back downstairs, Kurt placed his mug on his vanity and began the task of moisturizing and drying his hair. He attempted to move quickly, eager to get into his closet and pick the perfect sorta-kinda-date outfit. Maybe something to encourage a certain someone to make it official?

Slapping on the last bit of his skin care, Kurt unwrapped his towel and briskly dried his hair before combing it into place. With one last look in the mirror, he adjusted his bathrobe and opened his closet with great relish.

Kurt felt that familiar rush of comfort as he surveyed his clothes. He had checked the weather before he had finally drifted off to sleep last night and jeans would definitely be appropriate. The rain had brought a bit of cooler weather and he was going to take advantage of the fact that he could wear his jeans and not sweat to death.

After pulling on some boxer briefs, he slipped (more like wiggled and squirmed) into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, smoothing his hands down the thighs. He turned towards his tops and contemplated his options.

Sam seemed to be a more low-key guy, so maybe he should tone it down a bit. Fashion wasn't always comfortable but it was a plus when it was. Kurt finally settled on a pale yellow v-neck with a subtle floral pattern. Okay, so it was technically from _H &M_'s women's collection, but he had killer collar bones and men's shirt didn't show them off as well.

Deciding to forgo a belt, he secured his favorite watch on his wrist (a delicate white and mother of pearl affair) and moved on to the shoes. He quickly laced up a pair of teal and yellow plaid Keds and surveyed his handiwork in the mirror.

_Maybe just a little mascara…_

After a quick sweep of clear mascara, he deemed himself ready and prayed to any deity that may be listening that his father wouldn't be in the kitchen. Kurt rarely wore makeup over the summer and one look at his eyelashes would give him away. He really didn't need a boy lecture right now.

Since the shop opened late on Saturdays, he _may_ have a chance.

Or he could open his door and find his dad waiting for him on the other side, that was apparently an option too.

"Um, hey Daddy," he squeaked.

"Mrph," Burt replied, trudging into the living room and clicking on the news.

Kurt smiled fondly, nervousness dissipating. He fixed his father a cup of coffee and placed it on the end table at his elbow. He brushed a kiss on his forehead and went back into the kitchen. Still having time to kill, Kurt began to put away the dinner dishes.

Unable to wait any longer (and not willing to give his father time to interrogate him), Kurt ran downstairs to grab a light jacket. He took one last look in the mirror before grabbing a plain white cardigan and popping into the living room.

"Alright, Dad, I'm going to head out. I should be back later tonight, okay?"

"'Kay, Bambi. Love you, have fun," Burt replied sleepily.

"Love you too, Daddy," Kurt said tenderly.

Grabbing his keys and wallet from the basket on the hall table (and frantically checking for his cell phone six hundred times) Kurt made his way to his car and hopped inside. Tossing his cardigan in the passenger seat, he took his phone out of his pocket and checked it one last time.

_One message from Sam_

Cue the butterflies. Kurt opened the text with shaking fingers.

_Cant wait to see you :)_

If possible, the butterflies increased in number. Kurt swallowed his nerves and sent a quick text back.

_I'm on my way :)_

Kurt placed his phone in the cup holder and got buckled in and ready to go. As he started the car he heard his phone buzz against the console.

_Awesome :D_

Kurt was beginning to see that Sam was quite the "awesome" guy. Normally such ineloquence annoyed him, but it suited Sam rather well. Hell, the boy could do with a flaw or two; otherwise he was just too good to be true.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, needing to concentrate on the ride there. Kurt was fairly certain he remembered the way there and wouldn't get lost, but he kept his music low and his eyes on the road, just in case.

At 10:25 Kurt saw the Evan's long drive and bounced excitedly (and victoriously) in his seat. He parked next to the stunning Aston Martin and eyed it covetously before trotting up the steps and ringing the doorbell.

After a moment, Patricia answered the door and hustled him inside. "Hello, sweetheart! Sam will be down in just a second, he had to run up to his father's office. Can I get you a drink while you wait? Coffee?"

"Oh, yes please," Kurt replied. He liked Sam's mother and figured it couldn't hurt to get on her good side.

"C'mon into the kitchen, honey."

Kurt followed her into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar like he was bid.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

Patricia fixed two cups and stood opposite him at the breakfast bar.

After the two sipped their coffee in comfortable silence, Mrs. Evan's reached over and clasped his wrist. "Thank you for helping Sam, really. You've been so sweet to him."

"No problem," Kurt replied bashfully. He felt there was some kind of undercurrent to this conversation that he wasn't quite picking up on.

Thankfully, before the conversation could become more serious, Sam breezed through the door, panting and looking harassed. "Mom, have you seen R2?" he asked.

"Yes, dear, he's asleep in the laundry room," she replied humorously. With a jaunty wave and a pat on her son's back, Patricia Evan's flounced out of the kitchen and onto the veranda.

Sam focused on Kurt, gracefully slipping out of the barstool to face him. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey, yourself," Kurt sighed.

Sam took a deep breathed and bounced on his toes in excitement. "You ready?"

"Absolutely," the pale boy replied.

Sam gestured for Kurt to exit the kitchen and followed behind him. He called a goodbye to his mother and ushered Kurt outside. Last night they had agreed to ride together and Kurt was crazy excited to ride in the Aston Martin. Sam opened the door for Kurt and the pale boy couldn't hide his pleasure at the gesture.

Kurt buckled himself in as Sam came around the car and situated himself. The Vanquish's engine purred to life and the blond teen rested his hands on the wheel, turning to look at Kurt. "Are you hungry? There is this really great place I know. And I find the fact that you've never had biscuits and gravy enough to break my Southern heart," he finished with a grin.

Kurt giggled and slapped his hands against his thighs. "Sounds perfect, though you seem pretty determined to make me break my diet."

Before Sam could berate him over this "diet" nonsense, Kurt held his hands up in surrender. "So what's the name of this really great place you know?"

Sam gave him a boyish grin as they were pulling out of his driveway. "Hattie's."

* * *

The two teens sat under a shaded bench, enjoying the weather and each other. Kurt's nose was buried in the menu; Sam had recommended just about _everything_ on the menu, which wasn't making his decision any easier. The blond teen took this opportunity to admire the pale boy's features as he sipped his sweet tea.

Kurt huffed out an annoyed breath and closed the menu firmly. "Biscuits and gravy! There, I decided!" He pushed the menu towards Sam. "Don't let me look at it any more; I'll change my mind again."

Sam chuckled as he placed the menu on top of his own. Right on cue, Miss Alma's niece, Grace, came to take their order. Sam had decided on the Southern Breakfast, filled with eggs and bacon and sausage and pancakes and anything you could think of. Sam's felt his mouth water in anticipation. Sam and Kurt fell into easy conversation before Kurt got distracted by a family sitting at the opposite side of the dining area.

Two men in their early thirties sat at a small bench, holding hands across the table. Kurt was surprised to see the little girl sitting in a high chair, a perfect blend of the two men, being doted upon. The most surprising thing, however, was the lack of disgust present in the other patrons. Kurt felt oddly exhilarated and anxious seeing the couple; happy no one was saying anything and worried someone would.

Sam noticed Kurt's distraction and glanced in their direction. He recognized the couple; they were regulars and some of his mom's clients. When she wasn't hard at work at Michael Kors she had her own interior design firm.

"Isn't she adorable?" Sam asked.

"The baby? Oh, yes, she really is. Such pretty curls." Kurt responded, blushing at having been caught staring.

"Her name is Gabby. The one with the dark hair is Michael and the other is Alan; my mom helped them design the nursery. Alan is a close friend of my mother's; he's kind of like an uncle to me."

Sam could tell that something was bothering Kurt but he couldn't tell what. Before he could ask what the matter was, Kurt began speaking again.

"Was she adopted or…?"

"Oh, no, Alan carried her. They were thinking about adopting, but they really wanted to try to have one on their own. I know it took them a while…" Sam lowered his voice, making Kurt lean forward to catch what he was saying.

"When they first decided to have a family a few years ago, Alan got pregnant right away. But about three months in, he had a miscarriage. It was really hard on them and they decided to leave it be for a while. It really did a number on Alan, like, medically."

Kurt nodded solemnly, face softening sympathetically, before gesturing for Sam to continue.

"The doctors told them not to try to conceive naturally, and to consider adoption or surrogacy, because another pregnancy, or God forbid, another miscarriage, could really damage or kill him. They said that he might be depressed and sick for a while, as a side effect of him miscarrying. After a while, it didn't get better, and Michael convinced him to go to the doctor again."

Sam took a gulp of sweet tea, brushing his hair back from where it had fallen in front of his face during their hushed conversation. "Long story short, they did some tests and found out that Alan was five months pregnant and everything was looking great. They call Gabby their miracle baby."

Kurt swallowed thickly, before composing a response. "That's really amazing."

"Yeah, it is. I'm just so glad that Alan is okay. There so happy now; I hope that I can have that one day. The love and like, intimacy, not necessarily them being a carrier. That would be awesome, like icing on the cake, but I don't really care."

Sam hesitantly reached across the table and took Kurt's hand. He wasn't going to get ahead of himself and make any kind of declaration, they were nowhere near that point yet, but the pale boy did make him feel some intense emotions.

Kurt took a shuddery breath a looked to Sam. "I really want that too. I, uh…" _Spit it out, Kurt! This is the perfect time!_ "I—I'm a carrier, too. You hear all these stories… And not everyone is okay with it. I—I just… You're the first person I've ever told outside of my family," he finished in a whisper.

"Hey," Sam cooed. "That's like, amazing." And he meant it. "Whoever you end up with should consider themselves lucky."

"You know, you're kind of too good to be true," Kurt teased through his tears (damn emotions!).

"Nah," Sam replied bashfully, cheeks heating. "Listen, I know you don't really know Blaine, but he's a carrier too. If you ever need to talk to someone that like, knows what you're feeling or whatever, he'd be more than happy to."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt said.

Thankfully, their food arrived, effectively breaking the serious atmosphere at the table. Sam rubbed his hands together in excitement, unwrapping his napkin from around his utensils and placing it over his lap. His momma done raised him right.

Kurt copied his motions. "This looks, and smells, really good."

"Mmhmm," Sam agreed, mouth already full.

"I don't know if I will be more impressed or horrified if you finish all that," Kurt taunted.

"Quiet, you. I wanna hear less talking and more eating from you."

Kurt just shook his head and dug in as well, feeling considerably lighter. Well, thanks to the biscuits and gravy, perhaps not for very long…

* * *

As the teens pulled into the mall's parking lot, Kurt was on cloud nine. While he had slipped off to the bathroom, Sam had paid for the both of them and refused to accept Kurt's money and he didn't once mention it being payback for fixing his car.

Sam parked the car, walking around the front and opening the door for Kurt while he gathered his sweater and phone. "Thank you," Kurt chimed.

"You're welcome."

Kurt crossed his arms in front of his chest, sweater draped over his folded arms. Sam came up behind the smaller teen and let his hand settle on the small of his back, gesturing towards Dillard's. "I doubt you'll let me get anything from there, but there is a Starbuck's right outside its entrance."

"You're a good man," Kurt replied gravely, subtly moving into the blond teen's large hand.

As they walked to their caffeine dealer, the two boys discussed what kind of suit they were going to be getting for Sam. The taller teen, having little knowledge of formalwear, decided to trust Kurt with this; it was his forte, after all.

"I'll just leave it to your discretion, though I do reserve veto rights," Sam said as they waited for their lattes.

"Don't worry. With my help, you're going to look fabulous," Kurt replied with a shark's grin. Scooping up their lattes (non fat for Kurt, of course), the pale teen directed them to Nordstrom. "I did a little research last night," he said by way of an explanation.

"Should I be worried?" Sam joked.

Kurt turned to the blond teen and patted his shoulder with a comforting look on his face. "It's easier if you don't fight."

* * *

Sam stood in the men's department in Nordstrom looking at the havoc they had created. It was as if a very small, _very_ determined tornado had breezed through and then exploded onto him. The sales people were steadfastly steering clear of them, having been berated for their inferior taste and skills by Hurricane Hummel.

Sam didn't know that men's clothing came in so many varieties. Sure, Blaine was always going on about, like, vests and ascots and stuff, but Sam knew his role in those conversations was to nod politely and agree with whatever his dapper best friend had to say.

Not Kurt. Kurt expected feedback and opinions and… participation. Sam knew he was in way over his head, and after a few desperate and baffled looks, so did Kurt. Now he was serving as an elaborate shopping cart, listening as Kurt flit about, clearly in his element.

Finally, Kurt approached him and pointed towards the dressing rooms. Sam almost mentioned they were only allowed to bring in six items at a time, but the something about the fear in the sales people's eyes told him they weren't going to have a problem with their blatant disregard for dressing room rules.

Kurt pushed him into the handicap room and began to sort through the massive pile of formalwear, separating things by outfits. After a surprisingly short amount of time, Kurt turned to Sam a gestured towards the outfits. "Come out after each one. I'm going to go have a seat on the chair out there."

And then Sam was alone. Well, him and about seventy-five pieces of men's separates.

Sam shrugged out of his clothes and slipped into the first outfit; a classic black suit. After a quick look in the mirror, the blond teen shouldered open the door and shuffled into the hallway.

Kurt looked up from his phone and took in Sam's attire. Sam could tell from Kurt's thoughtful expression that this was not a winner. "Be honest," he said. "It's terrible, right?"

The pale teen made a chiding sound and shook his head. "No, not terrible. I highly doubt you could look _terrible_ in anything, just not quite right. You're uncomfortable and it shows. Now, next," he said with a gentle shove.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief and all but tore the suit off. Next was a much more relaxed outfit; navy dress pants and a fuzzy sweater. No, not fuzzy, cashmere. Sam had a feeling he should finally learn these terms if he was going to hang around Kurt more. His mother would be pleased.

Stepping out, Sam saw Kurt's eyebrows raise appreciatively before he schooled his face into a mask of nonchalance. Sam spun slowly as Kurt stood up and approached him. The delicate teen turned Sam toward the angled mirrors, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"This is nice," Sam ventured.

"It is," Kurt agreed as he smoothed his hand across Sam's shoulders. As the blond teen contemplated his reflection, Kurt allowed himself a moment to admire the broad set of Sam's shoulders, the muscular planes of his back. Kurt chanced a look at his backside, immediately flushing a bright red and regretting his decision.

_Yeah, totally perfect,_ Kurt thought shakily. Drawing himself out of his embarrassment, Kurt continued his assessment. "As great as it looks on you, I don't think it's formal enough."

Sam visibly deflated. "I kinda figured it wouldn't be that easy."

"Hush," the smaller teen scolded. "You should totally get it if you can. Now, next outfit." And then Kurt was back on his chair, hoping it took Sam a few minutes to get into his next out so he could will away his blush.

Meanwhile, Sam was trying to tone down his Cheshire cat grin. He could tell that this outfit had an effect on Kurt. It was flattering; and Sam was going to have to get the other teen to try on some outfits of his own so he could return the favor.

As he peeled off the clothes, he set them aside in a "keep" pile. He slipped into the next outfit; fitted grey slacks, a lavender dress shirt, and a grey vest with a darker silk backing. Looking at himself in the mirror, even Sam had to admit he looked good.

_Kurt sure knows his stuff._

Sam stepped out, hopefully for the last time, and gave an obligatory spin.

" _Very_ nice. Sometimes, I forget how good I am at this," Kurt said with a wink. Then, more sincerely, "Lavender is really your color."

"Thanks," the taller boy replied, suddenly bashful.

" _Normally_ ," Kurt began. "I would totally make you try on the rest, just to be sure, but since you're new to this, I think I'll let you off the hook. Just this once."

Sam smiled at him winningly, scooping him into a jubilant hug. "You're the best!" he exclaimed as he set the petite teen down, not quite ready to let him go. He gave into impulse and pressed a quick, enthusiastic kiss to Kurt's forehead before releasing him and gently shoving him towards his chair.

Sam hurried into the dressing room and got back into his own clothes as quick as a flash, gathering both outfits he was going to buy. He emerged from the dressing room, victorious, and followed Kurt to a register.

After he paid for his new clothes, Kurt herded him towards the largest shoe store he had ever seen; until now, Sam had been an online/Payless kind of guy. Kurt navigated the rows expertly, gesturing for the taller teen to sit on the low mirrored seats, rifling through boxes.

"What size are you?" Kurt asked distractedly.

"Um, eleven."

Kurt selected a pair of grey suede dress shoes and waited as Sam laced them up. "Walk," the delicate teen commanded. Sam obliged, parading up and down the aisle. "How do they feel?"

"Good, comfortable. Way better than anything I have at home," Sam admitted.

"Well, that was far easier than even I expected," said the pale boy. He wiggled the now empty box at the taller teen, indicating he should put his own shoes back on. Before they knew it, the teens were exiting the store, having accomplished their goal.

Sam set his bags on a bench, rearranging them to carry them more easily. This part of the mall was relaxing, getting fewer customers than the rest of the mall for some reason, and he and Kurt were the only ones around. He looks to Kurt gratefully. "Seriously, thank you for helping me with this. It would have taken forever otherwise, and Blaine isn't nearly as fun to shop with. He hits on all the sales guys," he joked.

Kurt looked up into Sam's eyes in disbelief. "Why would I hit on someone else when I'm here with you?"

And Sam melted.

He abandons his shopping bags on the bench and grabs Kurt's hands, guiding them to his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around the smaller teen's slim waist, pressing him close. He leaned down and kissed Kurt slowly, tenderly, slipping his tongue, stroking it against the roof of his mouth.

He pulls back before they can get too lost in the moment, not wanting to be that gross touchy-feely couple in the mall; you know which one. He rests his forehead against Kurt's, remaining silent until the smaller boy opens his eyes and _looks_ at him.

"I know it's early, and I know we haven't known each other for a long time, _and_ it's nowhere near dinner time, but do you want to have dinner with me tonight? As a date? Like, an official date, because we never talked about what this really was," Sam asked quietly. "Please?"

Kurt laughed, a high, clear, happy sound, before responding. "Do you even have to ask? Of course I'll go to dinner with you!"

Sam pressed one last kiss to Kurt's upturned lips before releasing him and picking up his bags again. "So, where to next?"

* * *

After an enjoyable afternoon of shopping, the two teens collapsed into a booth in the food court, clutching their second lattes of the day. Piling their bags next to them, they laughed giddily, drunk off each other's presence and the high of new love.

As they settled into the cushions, Sam leaned his head against his hand and gazed at the boy in front of him. Kurt smiled back, idly tracing circles around the rim of his cup. "So," he says.

"So," Sam parrots. Then, "Where would you like to have dinner?"

Kurt sighed explosively before slumping dramatically against the arm resting on the table. "I'm the worst at deciding where to eat," he confided. "What are you in the mood for?"

_You,_ Sam thought immediately. _Oh my God, don't say that out loud!_

Even though he kept his thoughts to himself, the blossoming flush on Kurt's cheeks told him he may have heard it anyway. His mom (and Blaine and Wes and David) said he wore his heart… and libido, apparently, on his sleeve.

Sam cleared his throat before responding. "Do you like the Cheesecake Factory? They have a little bit of everything. And killer cheesecake, obviously."

"I've never been, actually, but it sounds great. I've been trying to convince my friends to eat at places other than Breadstix for forever and this was at the top of my list," the smaller teen replied, blush still staining his cheeks.

Kurt excused himself to use the rest room and Sam pulled out his phone to check the time; just past seven o'clock. He noticed he had a few unread texts as well, all from Blaine.

_How's it going?_

_Did you get something to wear? I hear Kurt's shopping prowess is legendary._

_Is your silence a good or bad thing?_

_ANSWER ME! Just kidding, hope you're having fun :)_

Sam smiled and shook his head in fond exasperation before sending a response.

_Hey sorry i missed your texts. Its going great, got something to wear to the party._

Sam stretched stiffly, surprised at how beat he felt. This rivaled one helluva day at camp. Then his phone buzzed; a response from Blaine.

_Great :) And how's it going with Kurt?_

Sam tried to keep the goofy grin off his face, but ultimately failed.

_Really good. I asked him to dinner, like on a real date. he said yes_

Blaine's response was quick and simple.

_:D_

Just as Sam put his phone away, he spotted Kurt making his way back to their table. Sam idly spun his now empty coffee cup, smiling at the delicate boy as he took his seat across from him. Kurt responded in kind, taking a sip of his coffee before grimacing.

"Cold," he explained.

Sam scrunched his nose up in sympathy. "Did you want to head to dinner? It's right outside," he asked, gesturing to the well lit open air portion of the mall.

"Sure."

"Let's head to the car first, to get rid of these bags. I'll drive us back around," Sam suggested. Kurt nodded in agreement and they gathered up their purchases and tossed their finished coffees.

In no time at all, the two teens were seated on a long bench, waiting for their names to be called. They both stared into the dessert case, commenting to each other on all the sinfully delicious cakes they could see. Their debate over chocolate vs. caramel was interrupted by a hostess ready to seat them.

They lucked out, sliding into a private U-shaped corner booth, settling next to one another. Sam reached under the table and grasped Kurt's hand as they looked at the menus. Their waitress came over to take their drink order and read them the specials before leaving them to peruse the menu in peace.

"Everything looks so good," Kurt bemoaned. "I'll never be able to decide! And I thought Hattie's was bad…"

"Everything I've had here is really good," Sam said while focusing on the menu, squeezing Kurt's hands at random intervals. The smaller teen wiggled closer, hesitantly resting his head on Sam's strong shoulder.

"That doesn't help me decide," Kurt whined playfully.

"Do you want to just share a bunch of appetizers? Try a bunch of stuff?" Sam suggested.

"Yes!" the pale teen agreed enthusiastically.

When their waitress (Lisa) came back to take their order, they listed off a staggering amount of appetizers giggling when the server jokingly asked if they were sure they didn't want to just order one of everything on the menu before striding off to place their order with the kitchen.

"So," Kurt began. "How has camp been? How are things going with Finn?"

The two teens had discussed their respective episodes with the lanky teen on the phone the night before and agreed that he wasn't being hurtful in a malicious way; he reallywas just _that_ clueless.

Sam sighed, gathering his thoughts before he responded. "Camp has been… okay. Finn hasn't caused any trouble for _me,_ mostly for himself. He's been really off his game."

Kurt pursed his lips in annoyance. "Does finding that fact strangely satisfying make me a bad person?" he asked quietly, ruefully.

The blond teen gently nudged Kurt until he looked at him. "No," he responded softly. "It just makes you human. And even if it did, I'm right there with you," he finished with a smile. "I won't lie; watching him get tackled kind of makes my day."

Kurt laughed, as was intended, making the sour mood disappear. "You're going to try out, right?" the smaller boy asked.

"Yeah, I am. I know it may ruffle a few feathers, but I really, really like it. It's such a shame that that you won't be there, you were really good."

"Sam," Kurt implored. "You know why I can't…"

"I do. And that's why it sucks," he stated firmly before deciding to change the subject. "Do you do anything during the school year? Like clubs?"

"I'm in Glee club," the pale boy responded eagerly. "I take dance lessons too, but those are at a studio, not school."

"Oh, your school has a Glee club? I'll have to tell Blaine; he was in the Warblers," Sam began. "I should have known you were in something like that, with how much you love music."

Kurt smiled happily, glad the other teen had remembered. Their talks had been few in number, but long in length, and it was nice to know that Sam had actually listened.

"What's your range?"

Kurt was surprised by such a thoughtful question. "Oh, um, I sing countertenor." At Sam's baffled look, he elaborated. "Like a male soprano."

"Wow, that's impressive," he said, awed. And he meant it, which was the best part.

"Thank you," Kurt breathed. Suddenly, Kurt was assaulted by a memory of Sam's room. A guitar! "Do you sing? I noticed you had a guitar but…"

"Oh, um, well I guess I can. _Blaine_ says I can, but I dunno. I'd rather play the music than sing to it. Maybe one day I could play and you could sing? I mean, I'd probably have to learn some of the music you like-"

Before the blond boy could finish, Kurt pulled him into a quick but jubilant kiss. Sam smiled at him radiantly, a question in his eyes.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"For just being you," he replied. It was cliché, but it was true.

Sam shrugged bashfully and Kurt watched as color spread high on his cheeks. Before the two could continue on this train of thought, the waitress arrived with the first of their appetizers. The next hour was spent laughing and eating the ridiculous amount of food they ordered.

Pushing away the last of their tiny plates, Sam stretched his arms above his head and collapsed back into the booth. Kurt was shaking his head at the table in disbelief. "I can't believe we ate all this food," he said for what must have been the tenth time.

"It's totally the shopping; we musta burned a ton of calories," the tanned teen explained.

"Please, this was nothing! You should see me on Black Friday," Kurt scoffed.

"I don't know that I want to," Sam joked. "I don't think I could handle it."

"Baby steps," the delicate teen reminded, patting his hand.

Sam turned his hand palm up, entwining their fingers once more. The waitress returned to the table.

"Dare I ask if you guys have any room for dessert?"

Kurt groaned as Sam replied "Of course!" Kurt looked to the blond teen in shock as the server finished clearing their plates, promising to return with a menu for them.

"You can't be serious!" Kurt exclaimed with a laugh.

"Totally! You can't come to a place called 'The Cheesecake Factory' and _not_ have dessert. _But_ , if it makes you feel better, we can share something," Sam relented.

If anything, the dessert menu was more daunting than the dinner menu. Sure, Kurt tried to eat well and exercise daily, but he had a secret sweet tooth; chocolate was his weakness. When Sam read aloud the description for the Dark Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake and noticed Kurt's sudden rapturous expression, he knew they found a winner.

When Kurt took the first bite, he made a sound he would be embarrassed about later; after the chocolate haze had passed. Sam, however, found himself in a bit of a pickle, and his condition had the potential to embarrass him _right now_.

When Kurt had practically _moaned in ecstasy_ when he had the cake, Sam felt his cock begin to harden. His pulse quickened as Kurt basically _sucked_ on the spoon. _Be cool, Sam._

The pale teen turned to Sam. "Aren't you going to have some?"

"Uh, yeah. Just spaced out there for a second," he said quickly.

The two teens slowly finished their dessert; Kurt savoring the flavor while Sam tried to restrain himself from throwing Kurt down on the booth and seeing what _other_ noises he could make. When the cake was finally gone, Sam was torn between being thankful he wouldn't have to listen to the obscene noises Kurt had been making and sad to see (hear) them go.

Unfortunately, Sam was now sporting a rock hard and hugely noticeable erection. Mercifully, the check hadn't come yet, giving him some time to will away his hardness.

Finishing his water, Kurt clutched his stomach. "Ugh, I feel sloshy now. 'Scuse me for a second," and then Kurt wandered off in search of the bathroom.

Sam sighed explosively as soon as he was out of sight, resting his head on his folded arms. He pressed up on the table, surreptitiously trying to adjust his erection in his pants, gratefully for the balled up napkin in his lap.

It was no use; the memory of Kurt "enjoying" his dessert was too fresh in his mind. But then, he imagined the look of horror on the petite boys face at seeing his massively inappropriate erection and sighed blissfully as he wilted.

There was a time a place for getting hot for your significant other but the first date certainly wasn't one of them. As Kurt returned to the table, Sam smiled up at him brightly, hoping to make up for any awkwardness that occurred during dessert.

As Kurt settled back into the booth, Lisa came back over to see if they needed anything else.

"I think we're all set," Sam said cordially.

"I'll just leave this here for you guys. Take your time," and she scurried away to take another table's order.

Sam grabbed the check, protesting when Kurt reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Nope, this is on me."

"But!" Kurt protested. "You paid for breakfast. _And_ lunch yesterday!"

"And _I_ asked _you_ on a date, which means I pay," Sam said triumphantly.

"So if I ask you, does that mean I get to pay?" Kurt asked tritely, his smile taking the sting out of his words.

"We'll see," the blond boy said with a wink.

Sam slipped his card into the folder and placed the bill well out of the other boys reach, earning himself a playful glare. The waitress came by a scooped up the bill, promising to be back in a moment.

Abruptly, Kurt faced Sam more fully. He looked into Sam's eyes, gazing at him sincerely. "I wanted to say thank you for today. I had an amazing time. I never thought I'd get to do anything like this while I was stuck in this town. I—I'm really glad I met you."

"I'm really glad I arrive places ridiculously early when I'm nervous. I don't know that I would have had the nerve to talk to you if I hadn't seen you alone on that first day. You're… kind of intimidating."

Kurt looked at the table, tracing the wood grain with his finger. "I'm actually really shy, but you learn to act tough when you're on the bottom of the social totem pole," he said sadly.

"Hey," Sam soothed. "Don't think like that."

Kurt looked up at Sam and smiled ruefully. "No matter what way I think about it, it doesn't change anything. It's what _they_ think."

"I guess we'll just have to change their minds," Sam whispered earnestly.

"You're sweet," the brunette replied just as Lisa brought his card back.

Sam left her a generous tip and signed the slip, glaring at Kurt when he tried to persuade _him_ to let him leave the tip. Kurt held up his hands in surrender, gathering up his jacket and slipping out of the booth after the muscular teen.

They walked to the car, Sam reveling in the fact that Kurt leaned into the arm he looped over his shoulder. He opened the door and waited for Kurt to get settled before shutting it gently. He slid into the driver's seat, buckling up and revving the engine. Kurt sighed in mechanical pleasure.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were using me for my family's cars," Sam teased.

"You caught me. Totally using you," Kurt said with a mock-guilty shake of his head, sharing a silly smile.

"So," Sam said. "If I hold your hand are you going to lecture me on the dangers of driving one-handed?"

Kurt smiled sweetly. "I think I can let it go, just this once."

"Cool," Sam replied, reaching over to take Kurt hand in his own, resting them on the boy's trim thigh.

Far too early for either of their liking, Sam was pulling into his drive way, headlights illuminating Kurt's Navigator as they drove by. They reluctantly let go of each other, climbing out of the Aston Martin.

Sam followed Kurt to his car, the smaller teen's heart hammering in his chest. He turned to face the taller boy, feeling a rush of attraction all over again.

_Sam is more amazing then I could have ever imagined_ he thought incredulously. _And, for some reason, he's interested in_ me.

"I know I sound like a broken record," Kurt began. "But I really had an amazing time. And I'm really glad your grandmother demanded you wear a suit, otherwise this may not have happened."

Sam laughed, as Kurt intended. "Oh, it would have happened. I just would have found some other convenient excuse to get you alone. I had been thinking of them for a week when my mom told me that."

Kurt's heart soared. "Well, then."

"Well," Sam echoed.

Sam stepped towards him, drawing him closer before pressing him against the black SUV. He angled his head, slanting his lips over Kurt's own. He kept the touches light a first, teasing brushes, before kissing him more firmly.

They both breathed through their noses, hot breath whooshing between them. Sam smiled against Kurt's lips, garnering the same reaction from the other boy. He used this to his advantage, pressing his tongue inside and taking the kiss from leisurely to passionate.

Kurt gasped pleasantly, slowly mimicking Sam's slick caress. Encouraged by the taller boy's appreciative murmur, Kurt pressed onto his tip-toes, clutching at Sam's broad shoulders more firmly.

Kurt was pliant and enthusiastic, and Sam was happy to respond in kind. He let his tongue retreat into his own mouth, humming happily when the pale boy's tongue followed. Sam slid a thigh between Kurt's legs, eliciting a sharp gasp before a near-silent moan.

Sam pulled back for a moment. "Okay?" he breathed.

"So okay," Kurt replied, and then they were kissing once more.

The delicate teen experimentally nibbled Sam's full bottom lip, holding back a smirk when the muscular teen all but purred.

_My teacher's have always said I was a fast learner_ he thought smugly.

Before he could get _too_ smug, Sam pulled away and kissed a quick path to his ear. Since his almost-kiss/ear molesting with Jesse earlier this summer, Kurt had tried to put the hot stab of pleasure he had felt when he had turned his head to avoid being kissed. It's just his luck that Sam would do the same thing, only deliberately.

The blond teen nipped his ear lightly, causing Kurt to stiffen in pleasure.

_Interesting_ , Sam thought, lust curling in his belly smokily.

Before the taller teen could shamelessly exploit his newfound knowledge, the sound of the front door opening drew them apart.

"Sam?" his mother called.

The blond teen stepped into his mother's line of sight, Kurt trailing after him. "Right here," he answered.

"Oh, just checking!" she called, relieved. "I saw the car in the drive but you were nowhere to be found. Just wanted to say goodnight."

"Night, mom."

"Night, honey. You too, Kurt!" Patricia chimed.

"Goodnight!" he replied dutifully. And with that, Patricia glided up the steps and disappeared into the house.

The teens looked at each other before cracking up, breaking the tension of almost being discovered making out like crazy by a parental unit. "I think that's my cue," explained Kurt, dismayed.

"Yeah," Sam mourned. "Text me when you get home?"

"Absolutely," he promised.

Sam leaned forward and placed a silly, smacking kiss against the smaller boy's lips. Kurt laughed before bestowing his own goodbye peck. Sam backed away as Kurt reluctantly left for home. With one last wave, Sam jogged up the steps and into the house.

Locking the door behind him, Sam raced up to his room. His earlier problem had come back with a vengeance and it demanded attention _now_. Quickly stripping, the muscular teen strode into his en suite bathroom, swiftly turning on the shower and stepping inside before the water could warm.

The sudden cold blast of water did nothing to quell his libido. Unable to draw it out, Sam braced himself in the corner of his large tiled shower and encircled his throbbing cock. He stroked himself quickly and efficiently, grunting softly. He was too wound up to handle this with finesse.

He bucked his hips into his hand, tightening his grip and using his thumb to stroke over the sensitive head. He squeezed his eyes shut, already so close to the edge. With a final twist over his straining flesh Sam came with a desperate, throaty groan.

He slid to the floor shakily, attempting to catch his breath. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or relieved he had finished so quickly. Being near Kurt all day had been torture at times, but so, so worth it. With a groan, the tall teen forced himself upright, swiftly finishing his shower.

As Sam emerged from the bathroom he could hear his cell phone buzzing against where he had dropped it on the floor. He snagged it from its resting place, anxiously glancing at the screen. It was Kurt, of course.

_Home safe :)_

Sam smiled inanely, sending back a quick _good_. He slid on a pair of boxers and toweled the excess wetness from his hair. Collapsing back onto his cool sheets, he wiggled into the comfort of his soft bed. Fe felt his body go limp, muscles easing blissfully, such relaxation only possible after a long day.

_An_ amazing _day_ Sam thought idly. His phone buzzed once more.

_I forgot my bags in your car :(_

Sam facepalmed before grinning lazily.

_I guess I'll just have to bring them to you tomorrow :)_


	12. Clouds of Grey

Are you ready for tryouts? :D Oh! By the way, I've had a few people asking me about Sam's texting/messaging. I know that there are misspelled words and such and I am totally doing it on purpose. It isn't that Sam is dumb, far from it; he just doesn't really check his texts before he sends them. Just so you know! :) Betad by the wonderful **StarfireEyes**!

" _Italics"_ means the other side of a phone conversation.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada.

WARNINGS: Boys loving other boys, language, homophobia, violence, angst and sickening amounts of fluff.

* * *

Sam woke up with his heart already hammering in his chest anxiously. Today was the first day of tryouts and the blond teen was a nervous wreck. He'd had nightmares about fumbling the ball and tripping on the field all night long and he was exhausted before the day had even begun.

He wrenched himself out of bed and set R2 down so he could sniff around his room while Sam got ready. He had packed his bag last night during one of the times he had woken up, so all he really needed to do was change out of his pajamas and scarf down some breakfast.

He glanced out of the sliding glass doors that led to a small porch off his room. Even though it was still early, it was unusually dark. After a closer look he realized it was because of the ominous clouds that were roiling in the sky.

Sam groaned at the thought of tryouts in the rain. He scrubbed at his face with his hands as he stumbled into the bathroom. He quickly took care of his morning ablutions and slipped into some comfortable clothes.

What he wore wasn't really important since they would be dressing out today. He jammed his feet into a new pair of shoes and quietly opened the door. R2 followed at his heels as he gingerly descended the stairs and whined for food. Or attention. You never could tell with him.

He poured some kibble in his pup's bowl and lazily poked through the kitchen for some breakfast. He finally grabbed the bread his mom had baked yesterday (she had watched something on a cooking show and had to try it) and the peanut butter and jelly.

Sam was pretty sure he could eat a peanut butter for all three meals and never get tired of it. He cut off two thick slices and drizzled one side with honey. He smeared a thick layer of peanut butter one the honey side (smooth, kthx) and some raspberry preserves (not jelly!) on the other. C'mon, he was a Southern boy.

He sat and the breakfast bar and munched on his sandwich. He stared out the window thoughtfully and watched the clouds stir together ominously. This didn't bode well for tryouts at _all._ He tossed his dirty dishes in the sink and wiped his hands on his shorts absentmindedly. As he turned away from the window the windows rattled with the low rumble of thunder.

_Shit_.

He was vaguely grateful that he hadn't retrieved his Camaro from the Hummel's shop. While he _loved_ his car, it was a terror to drive in the rain. He flopped onto the couch with a muffled _whump_ and clicked on the TV. He navigated to The Weather Channel and noticed he had _just_ missed the Local on the 8's. Of course.

He sighed and reached into the pocket of his green gym shorts and took out his cell phone. He checked and noticed he had one new message. His heart leapt into his throat when he noticed it was from Kurt.

_Good morning._

Sam glanced up at the TV and noticed it was only 7:20. What in the world was Kurt doing awake this early?

_Good morning! :) what are you doin up so early?_

He stretched out on the couch and listened to the newscasters prattle on about some kind of outdoors festival that happens every year and blah blah blah… His phone buzzed against his toned stomach.

_The rain always wakes me up. I figured since I was up I'd wish you luck, even though you don't need it :)_

Sam smiled happily. They had only been… whatever they were…for a few days, but Kurt made him feel wiggly and bubbly and squirmy in ways you only read about in books or see in a Disney movie and he didn't think he'd ever get used to it. Well, he hoped he didn't because _this?_ This felt amazing.

He was distracted from responding by the local weather _finally_ coming on. He held his breath as the Doppler radar came on and showed the area as one giant clusterfuck of angry red and yellow blobs. He groaned and kicked his legs childishly before collapsing onto the couch again. He grabbed his phone from when it had fallen during his tantrum and tapped out a response to Kurt.

_Thanks! Im going to need it with this wether it looks like it is going to pour_

He gave R2 one last pat before he grabbed his bag and an oversized umbrella and trudging out the door. The moment he stepped outside he could just _feel_ the rain in the air. It wasn't raining yet, but Sam knew it was only a matter of time. He could tell this was going to rival the storm they had last week, and that was impressive.

He climbed into his mother's car, plopping his bag in the passenger seat and checked his phone one last time. A message from Kurt lit of his screen.

_Be careful! I don't know about you, but it is already *pouring* here._

Sam sent off a quick response, promising to be careful, before firing up the engine and making his way to campus. The rain began gradually but by the time he reached campus there was a steady cascade of rain against the windshield, the wipers working steadily.

He pulled into the parking lot and came to a halt as close to the lockers as possible. They were meeting in the locker room for the first day of tryouts for some paperwork and what Sam imagined was going to be a confusing verbal bashing. They had been in camp for two weeks and most of them had yet to puzzle through Coach Bieste's unusual phrases.

He grabbed his phone and couldn't resist sending Kurt one last text message before he was going to spend the day getting his assed kicked by the other guys looking to snag QB1 and being soaked to the bone.

_Got to campus in one piece. im so dreading doing wind sprints in this_

He grabbed his bag and shoved his phone into his pocket. He took a moment to plan his escape, trying to figure out how to simultaneously open the door, the umbrella, lock the car, and not drag his gym bag across the seats and _not_ scratch the leather.

He finally just opted to dash out the door and hope for the best. Luckily, it worked and he found himself standing under large black umbrella in the middle of a complete downpour. He picked his way across the parking lot, trying to avoid the largest puddles, and followed some of the other umbrellas he saw into the lockers.

He finally stepped under the covered outside portion of the lockers and shook the water off his umbrella. He closed it and quickly fastened it with the velcro strap. The blond teen looked up and almost groaned when he saw the lumbering form of Finn making its way to the covered area.

He ducked into the locker room before the lanky teen spotted him and quickly surveyed the benches for a spot. Puck was sitting near the end of one of the benches and Sam let out a silent, relieved breath.

_Thank goodness_ Sam thought.

Since their… disagreement, Finn had been staring at him guilty, clearly looking for a way/opportunity to apologize. Sam wasn't sure he could manage to be gracious and accept his apology yet, so he did his best to avoid the other teen. After all, if you don't have anything nice to say, you might as well not say anything at all.

His mama done raised him right.

He ambled over to Puck and tossed his bag on the floor as he slid next to him. The mohawked teen looked up from his phone and tilted his head up in acknowledgment. Sam peeked at the message screen Puck was focusing on (his mother may have taught him right but she was also a shameless gossip).

_Blaine_.

Puck was so totally texting Blaine. _Ohgodohgodohgod._ Um, okay. He could handle this. He didn't see the message, but, you know, he was trying to snoop _that_ hard. Should he look? Could he _not?_ What if it was private? _What could they be texting that was private?_ Or would that be sexting?

Sam felt embarrassment churning in his stomach. The idea of texting dirty things to Kurt made him nervous, and not in a good way. Sending something so private through something _anyone_ could see made him feel the opposite of sexy.

Oh _god_ , what if Mr. Hummel saw? Or Mercedes? He'd never met her, but she sounded terrifying. What would he even _say_?

He needed to stop thinking about this.

He resolved to talk to Blaine about Puck later. He felt like a bad friend, not knowing what was going on in his friend's love life because he had been so concerned with his own. He smiled, happy with his decision and focused on his phone once more. Kurt had simply replied with a sad face.

_What are you doing today? Working with your dad?_

Sam rolled his head, stretching out the kinks in his neck. Tossing and turning always made him feel like he had been put through the ringer. His phone shook in his hands, alerting him to Kurt's reply.

_No, actually. I decided to stay home and have a lazy, movie day and go through my closet. Very exciting, I know._

From his vantage point, Sam noticed Coach Beiste gathering up piles of paperwork and fiddling with her keyboard. He probably only had time for one more text.

_I'm jealous at least you get to relax. Remind me why I like football later?_

Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket and elbowed Puck, alerting him to the fact that Coach Beiste was making her way to the front. "Thanks," the gruff teen muttered as he sent one last text and jammed his phone into his pocket too.

Coach Beiste stood in front of the glum group of teens and surveyed them silently, waiting for them to notice her and "shut their yap traps" or something. A hush went through the teens as they all caught on a focused on their new coach.

She smacker her clipboard against the forms they were going to be filling out. "Alright," she began. Before she could continue a massive peal of thunder shook the building, rattling the cheap metal siding angrily. Coach raised her eyebrows as if to say "Anything else?" and continued on.

"It's wetter'n a horse's mouth out there, so listen up! We got some paperwork we needa get through before we even _think_ about gallivanting around out there in this weather."

She paused and looked around the mostly-asleep group of boys in front of her and then grabbed the stack of forms. She split them in two and slapped them onto the laps of the boys on either end of the group. When neither one seemed keen on moving she gestured rapidly with her clipboard.

"Take one an' pass it along," she commanded impatiently.

The boys raced to comply, nearly dropping the stacks in the process. Coach Beiste rolled her eyes fondly at the groggy teens and waited until the forms made it around. When everyone had a form and had begun filling it out she started again.

"Now, keep in mind that just because you had one position when your former coach was the head cowboy of this rodeo, doesn't mean you will this time around. I'm not going to settle for subpar sportsmanship or lazy athletes. You're in _my_ house now!" she declared.

Some of the guys were starting to look decidedly nervous. Another crash of thunder exploded around them and Coach roller her eyes in exasperation as many of the boys jumped. "If you think I'm going to keep all a' y'all on in the sidelines, you gotta 'nother think coming. I'm going to be making some cuts, so you best be on you're A-game."

At this, there was a sort of stricken silence among the teens. Sure, it had been in the newsletter their parents had gotten, but judging by the shocked look on the majority of the boy's faces, they hadn't read them.

Sam didn't think they read much at all.

He winced inwardly. _That wasn't very nice…_ he thought.

Before he could berate himself further, Coach Beiste began speaking (yelling) again. "I've been watching the weather for the day, and it doesn't look like it is going to ease anytime soon," she said. She tapped the dry-erase board with a marker. "We're going to go over some plays after y'all finish up and see if this wet fever decided to break."

She surveyed them once more before slapping her clipboard down and retreating back to her office, mostly likely to retrieve the playbook. Sam felt his phone buzz in his pocket and chanced a look. Kurt.

_Beats me. Must be all the hair dye, finally gone to your head :P_

Sam smiled and huffed out an amused breath.

_I knew telling you i highlightd my hair was going to come back to bite me_

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and concentrated on finishing his forms and signing the medical release. He really hoped the last part would prove to be just a precaution.

He finished his form and signed it with a flourish. He took a moment to take in his signature that didn't resemble his name in the slightest.

Sam shrugged and looked around the room at all the other football hopefuls. Thunder and lightning continued to crash outside ominously, lending to the gloomy atmosphere in the red and white locker room.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Puck smiling. Not smirking, but smiling.

_Hmm._

He looked to the mohawked teen and smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way. If Blaine had an interest in this guy he figured he should make an attempt to get to know him. Or at least just be friendly. Maybe Puck had the same idea, because he returned the tentative grin.

The self-proclaimed badass looked around for their coach and found her still in her office, watching the weather on a netbook. Puck turned to look at Sam, a sheepish yet confident look on his face.

"So, I figure I gotta ask you if I can date your best friend. Bro rules," he said by way of explanation. "Imma do it anyway, but I kind of want you to like me."

Sam laughed and shook his head in amusement. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I think Blaine would like that." And then, "Do I need to ask you if I can date Kurt?"

"Nah," Puck said dismissively. "If anything you could ask Finn, but since he has his head so far up his own ass…" he trailed off. "We had a falling out last year. He doesn't know I'm bi and ran off at the mouth about 'kids like Kurt' and then there was drama with Rachel and Quinn and just… and Blaine told me about what he said that day. And with the way he is I know he prolly took it out on Kurt…"

The two teens stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the verbal diarrhea Finn seemed to have. Puck shook himself out of it and punched Sam in the arm playfully. "You seem like an alright dude. And I hope you kick Finn's ass for quarterback."

"Me too," he said fervently.

Sam punched Puck back and that was that. He longed for the days when making friends was as easy as sharing the sandbox. Before the blond teen could contemplate further, Coach Beiste returned from her office and took her place at the front of the group with a grim look on her face.

She cleared her throat to get their attention and spoke. "It looks like this is going to be one helluva storm. Looks like tryouts are going to be cut a day short, so you better push yourselves. We aren't allowed to practice when there's lightning. After we run through these plays on the board, y'all are free to skedaddle."

She turned her back to the group and began to draw a series of X's and O's on the board. Sam pulled out his phone (like every other teen in the room) and shot a quick test to Kurt.

_No tryouts today! Coach cancelled practice after we go ovr some drills :)_

After a moment's thought he figured he should text Blaine as well.

_Coach cancelled the outside part of tryouts. Might be hom early_

His phone vibrated in his hands with a response from Kurt.

_Thank goodness! It's only going to get worse. Any plans?_

Sam really wanted to see Kurt again but he didn't want to see needy of clingy, especially this early on. He looked up at Coach Beiste to see her still drawing on the board.

_No plans…_ he responded to Kurt. His phone buzzed with a response from Blaine.

_Good, now your mom and I can stop talking about you getting pneumonia. I may go have lunch with Noah…_

Sam laughed internally. He should have guessed Puck would text Blaine with their change in plans; he was just as eager to see Kurt. A new message popped up on his screen.

_You could come over, if you want…_

Oh, did he want. He was kind of nervous being alone with Kurt, though. He didn't want to do something… stupid. He and Kurt hadn't had _that_ talk yet, but he knew it was coming and he knew he needed to keep it in his pants until then. And after.

Besides, kissing was great. Like, better than great. Awesome and fun and sexy and just, yeah, everything. Sam knew he had this idiotic grin on his face but he couldn't bring himself to care.

_Sounds great :) I'll txt you when we finish here. Want me to get something for lunch?_

He replied to Blaine as he waited, teasing him. _May_ get lunch? Whatever. Kurt replied swiftly.

_I'll make us something. The weather is so bad; pit stops might not be a good idea._

Sam's belly fluttered for a moment and then calmed. He was unexpectedly moved by Kurt offering to make them lunch. And maybe he had a vague fantasy of Kurt wearing an apron.

He was brought up in the South, or at least by a Southern family, where food was love. Fresh biscuits and pies were just one of the ways Sam had learned to love. It seemed a little old-fashioned, but Sam was an old-fashioned kind of guy.

Sam was a decent cook but he lacked the patience to do more than a quick meal. He had a feeling that Kurt would be able to inspire some much-needed patience in him. His mother might be so pleased she'll agree to teach him how to make Gran's pecan rolls…

He sent back a one last text before he would be forced to focus on Coach Beiste's plans to kick McKinley's Titan's back into shape.

_Can't wait :D_

* * *

Kurt let himself swoon happily in the privacy of his room, collapsing back onto his bed with a besotted sigh. Before he got too comfortable he forced himself back up and into the kitchen. He had a lunch to get ready.

He felt like a 1950's girl that baked her crush a cake to woo him. Well, Kurt was a modern boy, so pizza was just going to have to do. And cake was really fattening.

Besides, he was out of powdered sugar.

He ran upstairs and whipped up a batch of dough, covering it with a wet cloth and shoving it in the fridge to rise. The fair teen breezed through the living room, tidying up the slight mess there and shaking his head in exasperation.

He sometimes felt that he and his father's roles were reversed. His dad was constantly sneaking junk food and kept finding new and interesting ways to hide the evidence. He held at least a half-dozen Twinkie wrappers in his hand and a few more rattled around inside empty Coke cans.

He tossed them in the kitchen trashcan and descended the stairs to his room. Luckily, he didn't have to waste any time cleaning it and could get started on his closet. Kurt was hopeful that he could be finished by the time Sam was finished with drills (or whatever).

Sam.

Kurt felt another goofy grin spread over his face at the thought. Who'dve guessed the token gay kid would end up with a sweet, Southern, blond bombshell?

Strangely, the first person he wanted to tell _wasn't_ Mercedes. He hadn't heard from her very much over the summer and they had drifted apart. Oh, he was sure they would drift back together when school started, but that wasn't for another two weeks.

No, he had nearly broken his phone in his eagerness to tell Jesse St. James, of all people. Jesse had turned out to be an amazing friend, always ready to listen or offer a kind word. And then tell him to put on his big girl panties and remember he is The Diva and he just needs to kick ass and take names.

It really was a shame he smashed an egg on Rachel's head; they were kind of perfect for each other.

And speaking of Rachel… This summer had shown him a side of Rachel he hadn't known existed. The _human_ side. Ever since that day he found her in his kitchen the two had formed a tentative friendship. Sure, she could be loud and so poorly dressed he swore it was affecting his vision; but she could also understand in a way no one else could, because of her fathers.

Jesse and Rachel were just misunderstood. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

He put aside thoughts of matchmaking and concentrated on his closet. Summer _would_ be coming to a close soon (thank goodness) so he needed to make room for his fall/winter wardrobe. He made two piles: donate and keep.

His donate pile was swiftly growing. He had taken some… risks this past season. Risks that were no longer in fashion and possibly a danger to his health.

Whatever plant some of them were woven out of made his eyes water. _Those_ went in the trash.

He wiped his brow and looked at the time. 10:03. He still had plenty of time before Sam would be finished. He stepped out of his walk-in closet and walked over to his computer. He clicked on Pandora and smiled as the sultry tones of Miss Britney Spears crooned out of the speakers.

Kurt wasn't sure about dancing until the world ends, but he was sure as heck going to shake it 'till this song ended. He danced and went through his wardrobe piece by piece, both piles steadily growing. He finished going through his closet and trotted upstairs to get a few big bags to put the clothes in for donation.

He folded each item of clothing he would be giving to the Salvation Army before placing it in the bag. He couldn't bring himself to donate wrinkled clothes. As he folded, he let his mind wander.

He and Sam had been… seeing each other for a little under a week now and things seemed to be going well. _Very_ well. Kurt was just worried things were going to fizzle out, like you hear about in magazines and stuff. Something about things that start off so hot burn out quickly?

He knew _that_ talk was coming. The awkward "Where are we going? Are we official? What's your position on sex?" talk.

_Yay_ he thought sarcastically.

Well, he'd cross that bridge when he got there. For now, he just needed to make sure he didn't accidentally donate/trash something he wanted to keep.

He dragged the donation bags back upstairs and set them in them in their garage until he dropped them off. He was going to have to pester his father into going through his own (more modest) wardrobe, if only to get rid of that awful plaid shirt he'd had since high school.

He popped into the kitchen to check on the dough (it was perfect, of course) and he flitted back downstairs. He sighed as he saw the keep pile. Why he had taken them off the hangers, he had no idea, but now he had to put them back on.

He grabbed the first thing on the pile and started hanging. Lady Gaga's _Born This Way_ came on and he found himself belting out the lyrics, his mood markedly brighter. After only a few songs Kurt had set his closet to rights and was quite impressed.

He surveyed his work with a sense of self-satisfaction. It was just past eleven and he was already done. He slid back into his room and let himself plop onto his bed and enjoy a moment of relaxation. He stretched his legs into the air and pointed his toes.

He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that clung to him like a second skin. They were soft and worn and probably more like leggings than jeans (jeggings?) and _maybe_ from the women's department and he loved them. He declared them fit for a visit with Sam and let them fall back to his bed.

On top he was wearing one of his dad's old McKinley shirts from his own high school days. He had a problem with that raggedy flannel shirt, but this shirt was something else entirely. The cotton was paper thin and worn to perfect softness. Kurt thought this look was a little too… comfortable for company. Especially such good-looking company.

He resolved to change his shirt when Sam said he was on his way over but was content to lie still and just listen to music for a bit. It had been a while since he had just let himself _relax_. He fished his phone from underneath the covers and checked for any new messages.

_One missed call from Jesse St. James_

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise and pressed dial and brought the phone to his ear, wondering what the other teen could want.

" _Well, good morning, Hummbelina."_

Kurt could hear the smirk in his voice. "Good morning to you too, St. Jerkface. How may I help you?"

" _Just checking in on my favorite Lima resident. We haven't had time to talk lately."_

"And whose fault is that?" Kurt asked tritely. "I'm not the one that's been busy. And quite secretive about the whole ordeal, if I may add."

" _I know, I know. My bad. We need to have lunch before I leave for UCLA next week."_

"Yes, we do. Where can you pencil me into your busy schedule of styling your hair and doing whatever it is you do when you're MIA."

" _Very funny, Kurtsey. How about Wednesday? Or will you be meeting a certain blond football player?"_

Kurt could feel himself flush at Jesse's teasing. "We don't have any plans, no. And if we did, I'd rearrange them. You're leaving, he's going to be here for the foreseeable future."

" _I'm touched. Really, I am. And I am also very nosey, so I expect details, Hummel. Lots and lots of details."_

Kurt knew from experience that Jesse's smirk had evolved into something predatory by this point. "Please, what kind of boy do you take me for?"

" _Hmm, we'll see. Do you have any plans with that Adonis today? Or are you solo?"_

"If you must know, tryouts were rained out and he'll be coming over later."

" _Oh, really?"_

"Yes, really. And get your mind out of the gutter. We're going to make some pizza and probably watch a movie. Nothing scandalous."

" _Aren't you just Ms. Susie Homemaker? Or would that be Stevie Homemaker?"_

Kurt rolled his eyes at Jesse's antics. "Are you ready to tell me why you've been so secretive lately?" Jesse sighed and paused to gather his thoughts. Kurt was intrigued. "From your dramatic pause I take that it's serious?" he asked, gentler this time.

" _Yeah… I've been… trying to talk to Rachel."_

Well. Well, well. Maybe he put away his matchmaking hat too soon.

" _I want to make things right. She deserves a better explanation, and one hell of an apology. She blocked my number after what happened last year so I have been hanging around some of our old haunts in hopes of seeing her. And going to her house seems so… desperate."_

Kurt was thinking that lurking at places she used to frequent was a little desperate (and maybe stalkery), but he wisely kept his mouth shut. "Would you… like me to talk to her for you? Maybe get her to call you?"

" _I don't want to put you in the middle…"_

Jesse sounded uncharacteristically hesitant which only strengthened Kurt's desire to help. "You aren't. I was going to tell her I had been hanging out with you anyway. I've been breaking some serious girl rules," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

" _Thanks, Kurt. Even if it doesn't work and she won't talk to me, I owe you one."_

"And don't you forget it."

" _I love how selfless you are."_

"Is that all you love about me?" he asked coyly.

" _Now you're fishing. Go, get ready for your lunch date with your blond gentleman caller. I'll see you Wednesday."_

"Buh-bye now."

" _Bye, doll face."_

Kurt chuckled and hung up the phone. He snuggled into his bed, getting comfortable. He'd just close his eyes for a minute…

He was awoken by the sound of his phone chirping at him. How had he fallen asleep? Now he was going to have sleep lines all over his face.

He groaned in aggravation before checking his phone. Sam.

_All finished with drills. Still ok to come over?_

Kurt stretched before replying. He could hear the heavy drumming of the rain, even in the basement. He clicked on the TV and went to the Weather Channel. He texted Sam back as he waited for the local forecast.

_Of course. Is pizza okay for lunch? I made some dough earlier._

The local forecast came on and Kurt was distracted. He was shocked when he saw the Doppler radar for their area. If anything, the weather had gotten worse than they had originally predicted. He sent a quick test to his dad, asking if the shop was alright. His phone buzzed with a response from Sam.

_Homemade pizza? Sounds awesome :D be there soon_

Kurt did a happy wriggle and threw himself out of bed. His father replied that he was fine, but opting to remain at the shop for the time being to catch up on some paperwork. He shook his head fondly; his father never could stay on top of his paperwork.

He whipped off his dad's oversized shirt and searcher through his newly organized closet for a suitable replacement. He noticed Sam seemed to like the color blue so he settled on a plain, powder blue shirt. It was a little big on him so the boat neck was even more pronounced.

He slipped on a pair of low-cut yellow socks, pale with a delicate white pinstripe, and declared himself ready for company. He gave one last twirl in front of his full-length mirror and smiled, happy with the end result.

As he climbed the stairs he heard his doorbell chime, signaling Sam's arrival. Kurt ran up the last few steps and scurried to the door. He peeked through the peephole (you never can be too careful) and saw a mess of blond hair.

He calmed himself before opening the door. On the other side was a very wet, very bouncy blond teenager.

"You're soaked! Did you forget your umbrella again?" Kurt remarked as he ushered Sam inside.

"No, I just ran up here. I didn't think I'd get that wet from the car to here. I was wrong," he said with a sheepish chuckle.

Kurt shut and locked the door behind Sam. He turned to face the muscular teen and smiled, worrying his lip with his teeth. The other boy held his arms open enquiringly, as if he wasn't sure if Kurt would hug him while he was so wet.

He stepped into the circle of the Sam's arm and cuddled into his defined chest. He turned his face up for a kiss. Sam obliged and lowered his head, pressing his smiling lips to Kurt's. The smaller teen hummed happily as Sam pressed his tongue into Kurt's mouth for a brief, passionate kiss.

The teens reluctantly broke apart and stared at one another before Sam smiled devilishly and tickled Kurt's sides. He gave an exaggerated shriek and broke away from his hold.

"Need I remind you who's feeding you pizza?" Kurt asked with a mock-angry eyebrow. He pushed at Sam's chest and wandered into the kitchen.

The blond teen embraced him from behind, nuzzling his cold nose behind Kurt's ear. He tightened his arms when the other teen tried to wiggle away. He soothed the cold skin with a lingering kiss to the area. Now Kurt shivered for an entirely different reason.

"Um," he began shakily. "Are you ready for lunch?"

With one last kiss, Sam pulled away and leaned on the counter. "Totally. Homemade pizza is one of my favorites."

Kurt recovered his composure and pulled the dough out of the fridge. He set it on the counter and rummaged in the fridge for the sauce he had made for pasta last night. He found it and balanced the mozzarella and parmesan on top of it.

He placed it next to the dough and looked back in the fridge. "What do you like on your pizza? We have turkey pepperoni and a ton of veggies; onions and mushrooms and black olives. Oh! We have ham and pineapple if you like Hawaiian."

Sam's eyes light up at the mention of Hawaiian pizza. "Hawaiian pizza sounds great. It's been forever since I had some."

Kurt smiled and grabbed the ingredients for Sam's pizza and some olives for his own. "Can you grab the flour container over there?"

Sam looked over and grabbed the ceramic jar labeled "flour". Kurt was already brandishing a French rolling pin and separating the dough into two portions (and wearing an adorable red checkered apron). He smiled as Sam slid the flour onto the counter next to him and took the other ingredients away so he had more room.

He deftly rolled out the first pizza and placed it on a pan for Sam to decorate. He mentally facepalmed and switched on the oven. "Go ahead and decorate your pizza while I roll out mine," he instructed.

Sam nodded and started to (messily) dress his pizza. He gazed at Kurt out of the corner of his eye and admired the fair teen. The ties of the apron dangled just above the swell of his perfect bum and Sam was hopelessly enamored.

His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on rolling the pizza into a perfect circle. Kurt absentmindedly wiped at his face, leaving a smudge of flour on his delectable high cheek bones.

Kurt set aside his rolling pin and tossed his pizza on a pan. He moved closer to the toppings and flushed at Sam's covetous gaze. He expertly covered his pizza in sauce and sprinkled on cheese and olives. The oven beeped, signaling to them they could put their lunch in.

Kurt donned some oven mitts (also a red checkered pattern) and placed the pizzas in the oven. He didn't look as he tossed the mitts onto counter and caused a cloud of flour to fly into the air, covering him in the powdery substance.

_Of. Course._ he thought ruefully.

Sam bit his lip to try to stifle his laughter. Kurt turned to look at him and was attempting to hold back his own giggles. Finally Sam cracked and doubled over with laughter before stepping forward and wiping the flour off his face with his thumb.

He pulled Kurt forward and pressed a kiss to his floury lips. He grinned mischievously and dipped Kurt back dramatically, kissing down his neck before setting the fair boy on his feet. The slender boy laughed happily before pushing away from Sam and waggling a finger at him.

"Let me get this flour off of myself before I spread it all over the kitchen. And _you_. Set the timer for fifteen minutes?"

Sam nodded and Kurt flitted to the bathroom in the hall. He closed the door behind him and looked at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were wide and sparkling with mirth. Underneath the flour his cheeks were flushed with amusement (and maybe a little arousal). His lips were reddening and slightly swollen from Sam's kisses. He was covered in flour and his hair was a mess; his clothes were hopelessly rumpled.

Kurt had never thought he looked better.

He allowed himself to smile inanely in the privacy of the bathroom. He brushed the flour off his clothes while he ran warm water over a washcloth. He swiped the flour from his skin and ran a comb through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

With one last look in the mirror he gathered his bearings and stepped out into the hall. He wandered into the kitchen only to discover that Sam had put away all the pizza toppings and wiped down the counter. He looked at the muscular teen and melted, just a little.

"Thanks for tidying up. You didn't have to," he murmured.

Sam pulled Kurt into his arms and rested his chin on his head. Kurt looked out the window and noticed the storm with alarm. He was momentary grateful his dad had weatherproofed all the windows in their house. The yard was covered in fallen branches and the driveway was covered in water.

As if on cue a crash of thunder shook the house and Kurt tightened his hold on Sam. Even though the weather was chaotic, the slender teen felt calm and content. He burrowed further into the blond teen's muscular chest.

The two teens just stood there, Kurt eyeing the timer on the oven and resenting it for counting down too quickly. When the timer read three minutes he pulled away from Sam reluctantly so he could clear the table and pour some drinks.

"Is Coke alright?" he asked.

Sam nodded and Kurt pulled out two cans of Coke (diet for him). By the time he had set the table and hunted down the pizza cutters their lunch was ready.

He put on the floury mitts and pulled out both pizzas at once and then closed the oven with his hip. Sam raised his eyebrow in amusement while he sat down at the table. Kurt slid the pizzas off the pans and onto a large wooden cutting board.

He quickly divesting himself of mitts and surplus pans and joined Sam at the table. He reached out to cut his pizza and immediately burned himself on MOLTEN LAVA SAUCE. He yanked his hand back immediately, then pressed his burned finger to his cold Diet Coke can.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked with concern.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "Just my pride."

He took his finger off the can and sucked it into his mouth (because that's what you do when you hurt your finger, even though it makes no sense). Sam frowned before abandoning his own pizza and cutting Kurt's, quick as a flash.

"Show off," he teased, taking his finger out of his mouth.

Sam just smiled smugly and sliced up his own pizza. The two were quiet as they munched on their pizza; Sam finishing his and Kurt putting half of his away for later. With the lunch put away, Kurt felt a bit of anxiety bubble in his chest.

Sam was about to see his room for the first time. He hoped the other teen didn't find it too girly or boring or weird. Well, he hadn't run screaming yet...

As Kurt opened his mouth to speak, a loud bang of thunder rattled the house and drowned out his words.

_Well,_ he thought. _Kurt speaks, take two._

"Would you like to go downstairs? Maybe watch a movie?"

"Yeah, this is totally movie weather," the blond teen replied easily. Sam's easygoing manner had a way of putting Kurt at ease.

He gestured for Sam to follow him. "I took over the basement," he explained as they descended the stairs. "It has the best acoustics and awesome closet space."

He reached the end of the stairs and turned to watch Sam take in his room for the first time. Kurt was painfully aware of every scrap of lace and dash of glitter, hoping that Sam wouldn't have a reaction similar to Finn's.

Turns out, his fears were unfounded.

"Wow," Sam said, voiced awed. "You're room is so much more put together than mine. I look like a slob." He finished with a laugh, and Kurt's anxiety vanished.

Well, his anxiety about that part.

The blond teen slipped off his shoes and stretched. He was still in his workout clothes, since they hadn't done anything that required any physical exertion. As he stretched, his shirt rode up a bit. Kurt got a glimpse of tanned skin pulled over taut muscles before he averted his eyes and focused on his massive movie collection.

"What kind of movie are you in the mood for? I have a lot of movies but I don't know if you're going to like a lot of them."

_Maybe we should have looked at my dad's movies in the living room…_ he thought ruefully.

"I'm sure I will," Sam said with finality, as if daring Kurt to challenge him. "I picked last time. Pick one of your favorites; don't think about whether or not I'll like it."

The delicate teen bit his lip before reaching for one of his absolute favorites, Sofia Coppola's _Marie Antoinette._ He waved the DVD at Sam questioningly before he gestured for him to take a seat on his bed.

And then he had a silent, amazing, panic. Because there was a _boy_ on his _bed_ and he was still in high school. He never thought this would happen and it was crazy how normal and natural it felt, even though Kurt had never planned for this eventuality.

He was brought back to the now when Sam spoke from his place on Kurt's bed. "Oh, I haven't seen that yet. Blaine has been after me to watch it but we never get the chance or forget about it and end up watching a movie we've seen ten thousand times."

Kurt gave an internal jump of happiness when he didn't groan like he had seen the girl's significant other's do in the past. He popped the movie in and flicked on his bedside lamp so he could turn off the bright overhead lights.

He slid into bed and snagged the remote for the TV and DVD player and sat uncomfortably. Now that he was here he wasn't quite sure what to do. Sam seemed to be much more relaxed and he stretched out on his side, flopping head on his pillow.

"Do you mind?" he asked Kurt, gesturing to the pillow.

Kurt shook his head "no" and sat cross-legged near Sam's sprawled limbs. His body was tense and he drummed his fingers restlessly on his knees as he navigated to the DVD menu. He was startled out of his, well, silent freak out by a quiet "Hey".

Kurt turned to look at the other boy and tried to smile. Key word: tried. Sam beckoned him closer with his index finger and sweet look on his face. He leaned forward and the blond teen took hold of his arm and gently tugged until Kurt was settled on his side, back pressed against his chest.

Sam draped his arm over Kurt's waist and pressed a quick kiss to the back of his head, saying nothing. Kurt smiled, inexplicably pleased that the other boy could read him so well. He wiggled closer and heard the blond teen sigh contently.

Kurt pressed play when prompted and elbowed Sam lightly. "You better not fall asleep during my favorite movie. I expect you to watch with rapt attention. There may be a quiz after," he teased.

"Silence, little spoon," Sam mock-commanded.

Kurt shook with silent laughter but was soon distracted by the opening credits. He felt his limbs become heavy with relaxation and smiled lazily. The dim light almost lulled _him_ to sleep but he forced himself to stay awake and enjoy this moment.

Snuggling in bed during a storm, romantic lighting, and watching a movie about the original fashion icon with a gorgeous boy; Kurt couldn't see how this could get _better_.

And then Sam began idly caressing his side, his back, his front. Turns out, it could get a lot better. He hummed appreciatively before capturing his wandering hand and linking their fingers, tucking their joined hands close to his chest.

Apart from a question or two (Sam couldn't keep track of the characters names) they watched the movie in silence, happy to just _be_. The movie ended and Kurt found himself stifling a sniffle, knowing what was coming for the child queen.

He turned to lie on his back, looking up at Sam. "What did you think?"

"I really liked it," he replied earnestly. "I wasn't sure that I would understand it, but it was really good. I liked how there was, like, modern music mixed in with the old royal stuff."

Kurt beamed at the other teen, glad to share something with him. "I'm relieved you liked it; I was worried it might be a little… girly."

"Psh," said the blond teen with an exaggerated toss of his head. "It was awesome."

"Do you want to raid my dad's DVD collection and see if there is something you wanna show me? Fair's fair."

From the way Sam tried (and failed) to shrug nonchalantly, Kurt guessed he already saw something he was interested in. He pushed at the other teen's shoulder. 'C'mon. Let's go upstairs. I'll grab us something to drink while you grab the movie you're pretending not to want to watch."

The blond teen laughed as he followed Kurt upstairs. He should have known the other teen would be able to tell. He wandered into the living room and snagged _Hot Fuzz_ from where he saw it resting on the DVD tower.

He walked into the kitchen to see Kurt pouring tea into a glass, one with a lemon. He handed Sam the glass without the citrusy garnish. The blond took a small sip. Sweet tea.

"Sweet tea? I thought you said you couldn't stand how sweet it was?"

Kurt blushed and took a sip of his own before answering. "Just yours is sweet, mine is unsweetened. I, um, made some sweet tea yesterday. Just…ya know, in case." He shrugged dismissively.

Sam lurched forward and pressed his sugary lips to Kurt's before making his way to the basement. The delicate teen pressed his fingers to his lips, licking over them and tasting the sweet, sugary taste of the tea. He shivered with delight before hitting the light switch and following Sam downstairs.

The other boy was at the DVD player when Kurt descended the stairs, sipping from his glass. He slid into bed and placed his glass on his nightstand. Sam turned around and smiled at Kurt before climbing over him and placing his glass next to the other.

They wiggled around, getting comfortable once more. Kurt pressed play when the menu finally popped up. He was intrigued by Sam's choice, truth be told.

"It's a bit slow at first, but that's because it's all setup. It's not, like, a regular cop movie. It's supposed to be a satire about them. Well, you'll see," he explained.

"Will there be a quiz?" Kurt asked in amusement.

"There just might be. Pay attention," and with one last kiss to Kurt's neck, the two concentrated on Sgt. Nicholas Angel and his partner in (fighting) crime, PC Daniel Butterman.

The movie turned out to be a riot, surprising laughter out of him when he least expected. Not to mention the actiony bits where Kurt got to cling to Sam a bit more tightly than strictly necessary. He may have to invest in a few more action movies if it meant an excuse to cuddle up to the blond teenager.

The credits started to roll and Kurt stretched languorously. Sam pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at the brunette teen. "What did you think?" he asked with a smug grin.

He blurted out "It was off the fuckin' chain!" without thinking about it, quoting a line from the movie. He clapped a hand to his mouth, shocked at himself.

Sam pretended to be affronted for a moment before laughing and nudging Kurt's calf with his foot. "I take it you enjoyed the movie, then?"

"Yeah, I did. It wasn't what I was expecting at all. I may have to let you pick the movie more often."

The blond teen's heart swelled at the mention of future movie dates. He looked to Kurt as he groaned pitifully. "I don't want to move," he explained.

Sam resumed his place cuddled up behind him. "So don't"

He could practically feel Kurt's happy grin from the way he pressed back into his chest. He fumbled with the remotes until he found a suitable satellite radio station on TV. He always forgot what channel they started at.

He finally decided on an adult contemporary station that was playing Sting's _Fields of Gold_. Kurt had to stifle a laugh; it was more like clouds of grey outside.

Sam _did_ chuckle a bit, pressing closer to the slender teen's back. "Is it bad that I kind of love Sting? He just comes off as such a badass, even though most people don't consider tantric yoga and veganism, like, things badasses do," he trailed of lamely. "That didn't come out very well."

Kurt huffed out a breath in amusement. "I get what you're trying to say."

They cuddled close, discussing the music that came on and anything else they could think of. There was a brief power surge in the middle of some whiny ballad ( _excellent_ timing, Mother Nature) and by the time the cable had rebooted it was over.

Eventually, there was a lull in conversation. The two teens were now facing one another, idly tracing patterns over Kurt's sheet and each other's upper bodies. Kurt realized that Sam's senseless patterns on his forearm had turned into letters and paused in his own artistry.

"What are you writing?" he whispered.

Sam said nothing, but started over. He started by smoothing his hand over his forearm resting limply on the bed. He traced the first letter, I.

Kurt worried his lip between his teeth in an effort to not twitch his arm as Sam continued with his light, tickling letters. L-I-K-E spelled the second word and Kurt smiled around his abused lip. As predicted, the next word spelled out Y-O-U.

Instead of responding, Kurt took the hand that had spelled out the words on his skin and did some spelling of his own. He gently dragged the tip of his slender index finder over Sam's palm.

M-E he began, kissing his hand between words. T-O-O. He finished by drawing a smiley face in his palm before the blond teen reclaimed his hand to trace something else, this time on his shoulder. A, it began, followed by L-O-T.

He captured Sam's hand and pressed a sweet kiss to the inside of his wrist. The muscular teen smiled and slid forward, bumping his forehead against Kurt's and keeping it there. He kissed the smaller boy, slow and soft, before sliding his tongue into his mouth to lick at his palate and tickle behind his teeth.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and returned the slick caress. They traded kissed back and forth before Sam broke the kiss to gently nibble down the fair teen's swan-like neck. Who knew a neck could be so attractive? Slender and pale and soft and so inexplicably sexy.

Kurt cooed softly as the other boy nibbled on his earlobe, arching his back slightly. He speared his fingers through Sam's hair and forced his lips back to his mouth. He did a bit of nibbling of his own, taking the blond teen's full lower lip between his teeth.

Sam pressed himself on top of the delicate teen with a groan, running his hands up and down his sides feverishly. His hips bumped against Kurt's, his erection pushing into his lower abdomen. Kurt gasped as he felt Sam's hardened length.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, mortified. He pulled his hips away frantically, hoping he hadn't ruined everything because his dick had a mind of its own. Before he could move off of Kurt the small teen shot a hand out, holding him in place.

"No," he soothed. "Um, it's—it's okay."

Sam watched Kurt's cheek's color even more, now embarrassed at his bold move. "Are—are you sure? I, uh, I don't want to be too forward." He'd learned that phrase from Blaine, and it definitely seemed to apply to this situation.

"You're not," he whispered.

Sam hesitantly lowered himself back onto the smaller boy and was surprised to feel an answering hardness pressing into his own. He tentatively rocked his hips into Kurt's, relishing the stuttering breath that escaped him.

On the second thrust Kurt rolled his hips up to meet him, wrenching a blissful gasp from his own lips. Outside the storm waged on, thunder continuing to rattle the house, filling Kurt's basement with a low grumble in addition to their delighted gasps and cries.

Their thrusting began to pick up pace, the urge to come getting more urgent. Kurt wanted it last forever but needed it to stop, needed to come. He kept his eyes open, wanting to memorize every second of this, more perfect then he ever could have imagined, and he had imagined a lot.

Sam was vaguely worried about what would happen in the aftermath but was too consumed with need and a desire to please Kurt that he banished it from his mind. The smaller boy's cries had turned into desperate whimpers and Sam leaned forward to press lips to his temple, attempting to soothe him.

He trailed them over to his ear and gave a sharp nip. Kurt climaxed with a shudder, the force of his orgasm surprising him. He stiffened under Sam, back arching and thighs clenching around his hips.

Sam groaned desperately and thrust into the cradle of Kurt's hips without finesse, losing his rhythm. He came with gasp and bit at the other boy's collar bones through his shirt, causing Kurt to shudder through the aftershocks of his own release.

The blond teen crumpled to the side, flopping an arm over Kurt's side and pulling him close. Sam nuzzled into the slender teen's neck. Now that the pleasurable haze was fading, he was worried about what Kurt's reaction was going to be.

This was fast. He had never intended to move this quickly with Kurt, but he definitely didn't regret it. He just hoped he wasn't to only one.

"Stop it," Kurt said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, taking his head from his hiding place and looking into Kurt's eyes.

"Worrying. Stop. You're ruining the afterglow. We can talk about it and freak out later, okay?"

Sam smiled and pulled the other boy into his arms. "Sounds good."

They cuddled together for a few moments before the drying, sticky situations in their pants became too uncomfortable. They separated reluctantly and Sam ran up to the hall bathroom while Kurt took care of himself in his en suite.

The reconvened on Kurt's comfy bed; Sam resting his back against the cool basement wall while Kurt curled up against his side. "So," Sam mumbled into his brunette hair.

"So," Kurt replied.

"I promise when I fished for an invitation to come over it wasn't to do this. I was just happy to spend time with you."

Kurt smiled and nuzzled his nose underneath Sam's chin. "I promise when I invited you over it wasn't to seduce you with silly movies and sweet tea." And then, "Well, maybe I didn't have the purest of intentions with the sweet tea," he teased.

"I knew it," Sam said, squeezing Kurt to him and focusing on the soft music playing in the background.

* * *

Hours later, after countless kisses and cuddles, Sam found himself back home, holed up in his room with R2-D2 and listening to the sounds of the rain.

He stared at Kurt's Facebook page for the thousandth time that night and grinned like a madman.

**Kurt Hummel** is in a relationship with **Sam Evans**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!
> 
> I hope you all liked it ! Let me know, along with anything you might like to see. If I get enough requests or find it interesting, I'll throw it in :) By the way, if you haven't seen either of the movie's I mentioned, GO WATCH THEM. They're some of my favorites, if you couldn't tell :P
> 
> Thanks, lovelies! 3


	13. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Thanks so much for all the kind words and favorites/subscriptions! When I first started this I never expected even half this response :) I'm so glad that you all seem to enjoy it so much. I am so very sorry for the delay in this update. Unfortunately, I experienced some personal issues, a family emergency, and I was unable to be near a computer for some time.
> 
> Okay, this chapter is going to be a little different because I am going to start off by backtracking. I had some requests for what happened between the two of them fooling about and then becoming Facebook official. I really wanted to include it originally but I thought I was kind of carrying on so I cut it. So, by popular demand, the relationship talks and some New Directions shenanigans!
> 
> Onward!
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything but my own ideas. I stole the Facebook relationship request wording.
> 
> WARNINGS: You know ~_^

The blond teen crumpled to the side, flopping an arm over Kurt's side and pulling him close. Sam nuzzled into the slender teen's neck. Now that the pleasurable haze was fading, he was worried about what Kurt's reaction was going to be.

Heck, Kurt was worried about what Kurt's reaction would be. He let the other teen cuddle him in close, trying to force his mind to just work around this boneless, buzzing contentment seeping into his veins. He needed to _think_.

But, why? Why did he need to think? He spent his entire damn life just _thinking._ Thinking about how his friends would be taunted for just speaking to him, thinking about how to hide the fact that the jocks knocked him around from his dad, thinking about whether or not his white skinny jeans went with his silver dress shoes, thinking about how to make _everyone else_ happy all the time,.

Why was he trying to think about this? Sure, this was unexpected, but it was amazing and sweet and with someone that Kurt was crazy about. He shook his head slightly and decided to just go with, just this once.

He could feel the tension radiating off the blond teenager in waves, the breath against his neck coming in short, swift puffs.

"Stop it," Kurt said softly, startling Sam out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, taking his head from his hiding place and looking into Kurt's eyes.

"Worrying. Stop. You're ruining the afterglow. We can talk about it and freak out later, okay?" Kurt looked at Sam beseechingly while squeezing his shoulder in comfort.

Sam smiled slow and bright before pulling the other boy into his arms, settling into Kurt's supremely comfortable mattress. "Sounds good."

They cuddled together for a few moments before the drying, sticky situations in their pants became too uncomfortable. Kurt may have been in favor of just going with things for once, but he sure as hell wasn't going to just _go_ with the fact that there was drying *ahem* come, like, in his clothes. Clothes that may be seen by his father or Carole. They separated reluctantly and Sam ran up to the hall bathroom while Kurt took care of himself in his en suite.

They reconvened on Kurt's comfy bed; Sam resting his back against the cool basement wall while Kurt curled up against his side. He smiled into the other teen's broad chest, still happy to bask in what remained of the afterglow. "So," Sam mumbled into his brunette hair.

"So," Kurt replied, hoping he wasn't about to get some sort of "thanks, that was great, but apparently you're not my type" speech.

"I promise when I fished for an invitation to come over it wasn't to do this. I was just happy to spend time with you."

Kurt smiled and nuzzled his nose underneath Sam's chin. Not a letdown speech. "I promise when I invited you over it wasn't to seduce you with silly movies and sweet tea." And then, "Well, maybe I didn't have the purest of intentions with the sweet tea," he teased. Kurt Hummel didn't make diabetes inducing sugar-water for just _anyone_.

"I knew it," Sam said, squeezing Kurt to him and focusing on the soft music playing in the background once again.

The smaller teen hummed contentedly and let felt himself melt into Sam's embrace. He heard another growl of thunder, grimacing as it shook the wall, making the light on his bedside table flicker. Kurt found the angry weather raging outside a striking contrast to the warm, lazy atmosphere inside.

They sat in silence for a while, reluctant to break the mood for the discussion that was sure to come. Kurt's leg began to fall asleep and began to tingle to the point of pain. Sure that Sam's shoulder was suffering a similar fate, he pulled out of the cocoon of Sam's arms.

Sam let his arms fall from their place around Kurt, clearly trying to shake the numb feeling from his shoulder without alerting the smaller teen to it. They stared at each other for a long minute before Kurt broke the silence.

"Do you want to start or shall I?"

Sam huffed out a nervous laugh before shaking his head "no".

"I like you, Kurt," he began, voiced thick with emotion. "A lot. Way more than I expected or even thought I could. I've been with a few people, girls and guys, but nothing was _ever_ like this. It's crazy and scary but, like, so so good."

Kurt opened his mouth to reply but Sam shook his head and grabbed his hand, not willing to stop now that he had started.

"And I remember what you told me the day I met you; about how it wasn't safe or smart or whatever, to be friends with the gay kid. And that totally crushed me, that you felt that way. But I still really wanted to because I you were so…" Sam trailed off, flushing attractively.

"So what?" Kurt prompted softly, caressing the fingers entwined with his own.

"Beautiful. And strong. And I thought… think, you have the prettiest eyes. And I just couldn't imagine _not_ talking to you. And I'm pretty sure that this is going to be the _only_ time I say this, but I am _so_ glad I didn't listen to your advice," he finished with a sheepish grin.

Kurt returned the grin slyly and nodded. _Glad he didn't listen to me, indeed._

"Well, for what it's worth," he started. "So am I. When you came over to my car I thought that you were going to be just another jock looking to keep the playing field a no-gay zone and I have never been happier to be wrong. You're sort of too good to be true."

Sam rolled his eyes at this but Kurt could see the blush spreading down his neck and up towards his ears. He felt an answering heat in his own face at Sam's besotted gaze before his gorgeous face turned grim.

"I won't lie and say I'm not worried about what will happen if we decide to make this official. For me and for you. I saw how they treated you, and what Karofsky did to you, and that _really_ freaks me out, especially when I think about how I'll have to worry about it happening to Blaine too."

Kurt felt a lump forming in his throat. As much as he liked this boy he refused to be some big gay secret. No matter if was for safety or protection or whatever excuses many a bi/gay boy has given their potential sweetheart. No, sir.

Before he could work out the tension constricting his throat, Sam continued.

"But I really think that this could be worth it. If you want to, that is. I don't want to assume anything," and on and on the blond teen stammered.

"Hey," Kurt interrupted. "Of course I want to. I just… can't believe that I'm living in Lima, Ohio and managed to find someone that doesn't want me to be their dirty little secret."

Sam looked so genuinely surprised and hurt _for_ him that it forced a tearful laugh out of him. _I am in so much trouble_ he thought as he looked into the other teen's soulful eyes.

"No way," Sam said. "I'm kind of shy, and way nerdy, but I'd never hide what I am or who I was with. Kurt, you're amazing and I can't get my head around the fact that you seem to like me. You're, like, the coolest person ever and it pisses me off that people are way too small minded to realize that they should be totally jealous of the fact that _I_ get you and they don't."

He paused for a moment and bit his full lips before backtracking. "I _do_ get you, right?"

Kurt felt his eyes pricking with moisture and willed away the tears. "Yeah," he began. "You get me."

Sam's face lit up and he glowed like someone flicked a light on under his skin. He pulled Kurt closed and placed a lingering kiss to Kurt's mouth, smiling all the while. He pulled back abruptly and settled across from him, all goof-ball charm and bouncy, happy energy.

Kurt couldn't help but radiate the same feeling back; sure he looked like an oversized, ecstatic Pinocchio. Sam leaned forward and snagged both of the other boy's hands in his own, squeezing gently and looking into his eyes, suddenly serious.

"I know you said no worrying, and I'm not promise, but I just wanna say one thing. What happened earlier was awesome. So mind blowingly amazing. And even though we already… got each other off, like, we don't have to do it again."

The blond teen couldn't decipher Kurt's expression so he plowed on. "I mean I want to, of course. But like, just because we did doesn't mean we have to keep… doing stuff. You know? Like, no pressure, or whatever. I know that I'm the first person you've been with, but just, whatever you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. Okay?" he asked. He grimaced with embarrassment. "Um, can I please stop talking now?"

Kurt laughed, a happy reassuring sound, and Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yes, you can stop talking. I know what you mean, so… thanks for completely defying the high school guy stereotype and being so sweet."

He reached out and tapped Sam on the nose, curling his fingers around the blond teen's strong hand when he caught it.

As happy as he was, anxiety curled in Kurt's chest. He knew that Sam had been with other people, and he wasn't jealous (much), but he was worried that the blonde's patience wouldn't last. Just _how_ experienced was he? Should he ask? Was he _allowed_ to ask? This did seem like the perfect time…

The brunette teen mentally chastised himself. If Sam could force himself to reassure Kurt about the physical side of their relationship, so could he.

"So, um, have you ever been with anyone like that?" _Oh my God,Kurt! "Like that?" Really?_ "Like, I know you said you were with Jesse, but have you ever…?"

 _Well,_ he thought, mortified. _That will have to do._

"Had sex?" Sam asked, equally nervous. Kurt just nodded his head jerkily, certain his head was going to explode from all the blood rushing to his cheeks. He suddenly lost his resolve and stuttered out a response before Sam could answer.

"Nevermind! I'm sorry, that's really none of my business—"

"Yes it is." Sam interrupted. "It is; don't apologize. I would want to know too, but you already told me." He smiled reassuringly before clearing his throat to continue (read: stall for time).

"And yeah, I have, but not with Jesse. He was the first guy I ever dated. Blaine set me up with him; I guess their parents work together. I was with two guys after him, but I only did it with one of them; Gordon. And it was only one time; we broke up after." He shrugged self-depreciatingly and looked at Kurt.

The slender teen stroked his fingers over Sam's had and looked at him sympathetically. Sam shrugged once more and continued.

"I've dated a few girls but I was always so awkward that it never lasted long. I only slept with two of them and it was kind of humiliating," he admitted. "I'm not a virgin, but I'm _not_ experienced. Kurt, I have _no_ idea what I'm doing, but being with you is amazing and that's all I really care about. So, don't worry about, like, experience, or whatever. This is the first time I've ever been with someone I care about so much, so we'll figure it out together."

Instead of responding, Kurt just leaned forward and nuzzled into Sam's chest, feeling ridiculously charmed. He pressed his lips to Sam's neck, a quick kiss. The two cuddled together, stretching out on Kurt's bed and listening to the soft music and rumbling thunder.

They traded soft kissed back and forth until Kurt's dad broke them apart in the form of a phone call. The smaller teen smiled sheepishly and excused himself to answer the phone. He perched on the end of the bed and spoke quietly with his father.

He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye, noticing him take out his own phone and proceed to fiddle about. After assuring his dad that the rain hadn't infiltrated their home and turned it into a swamp he hung up with the order to not leave the house and to make dinner for himself (Burt was eating leftover pizza, AGAIN).

His phone pinged with an alert. Kurt clicked on the Facebook alert; one new request.

 _**You have a relationship request with** _ **Sam Evans** _**to add him as your boyfriend** _ **.**

Kurt looked over to the muscular teen lounging on his bed, pretending not to watch his reaction. He smiled and clicked **Confirm.** And then sent out a mass text to all of New Directions (minus Finn) and Jesse.

_Yes, I am in a relationship and no, you may not meet him. Not yet. Mercedes, don't you dare come over._

Kurt tossed himself onto his back and pulled the muscular teen down to kiss him properly. Before long, the two teens were laughing into each other's mouths, their phones ringing off the hook (or whatever the cell phone equivalent is. Off the bed?).

They gave into temptation and grabbed their phones, comparing responses. Sam had the most missed calls while Kurt was absolutely overwhelmed with texts.

Wes and David appeared to be so overjoyed that they couldn't even type letters, only punctuation marks and were sending him videos of their celebration dance. Kurt's friend's responses ranged from _congrats, bb_ (Quinn) to _Kurt Hummel I will destroy u! how dare u tell me this ovr txt/fb! U better spill, white boy!_ (Mercedes) and _if he hurts you imma bring the pain_ (Puck). The last was kind of flattering and unexpected and Kurt enjoyed the worried look on Sam's face for all of two seconds before playfully punching him in the shoulder and telling him to relax.

He didn't bother telling Sam "You could take him" because, well…

As the storm tapered off and the day wore on, Sam and Kurt grudgingly agreed it was probably time for Sam to go home. They shared a sweet kiss as the blond teen reluctantly shuffled out the door with a promise to let him know when he got home. With one last kiss, the muscular teen jogged to his car and threw himself into the driver's seat.

Kurt stood on the porch and waved as Sam pulled down his drive and stayed there until he was out of sight. He sighed happily and meandered back inside, flopping over the side of the couch. He allowed himself a moment to just bask in fact that he, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, had a boyfriend.

And then immediately panicked, because that means he had to tell his father the boy he's been spending time with, _alone_ , is now his boyfriend. _And_ deal with the Finn Fallout. Tonight was going to be interesting.

And speaking of Finn, where _was_ he? Things had been… tense between them since his outburst a little over a week ago but that didn't stop him from enjoying his cooking and housekeeping skills. By now, Finn was usually (un)subtly poking about in the cabinets and fridge, sighing massively and looking all around pathetic.

Kurt was glad for the afternoon and evening to himself but not knowing made him uneasy. He shrugged it off, figuring the tall teen was at Rachel's and felt vindicated that he must be supremely uncomfortable in the presence of her fathers. And that he would be forced to eat some form of vegan/Kosher dinner that Rachel had prepared with her parents and smile like he was enjoying it.

He grabbed the rest of his pizza from the fridge along with a glass of water and made his way back down to his room to settle in for an evening of fielding responses from his friends (and frenemies, Santana had taken to giving him…"tips") and Audrey Hepburn movies.

And pretending to be asleep when his dad came home and checked on him.

* * *

Kurt was awoken the next morning by _someone with a death wish_. It was barely ten o'clock and someone was ringing his doorbell quite insistently. He huffed an annoyed sigh and flung back the covers.

_Freaking Finn! How many times has he forgotten his damn key now?_

As Kurt thundered up the steps he faltered on the last one. Finn was supposed to be at tryouts. So who was at his door? He padded softly down the hallway and peered into the peephole with a sense of trepidation.

He was greeted by a distorted view of an obnoxious paisley blouse and garish yellow skirt. Rachel.

_Wait, Rachel?_

He opened the door slowly and took in her appearance. Upon further examination he saw her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy complexion, like she'd been crying. Her hair was pulled into a very messy ponytail and she looked _miserable_.

"Rachel?" he asked. She just looked at him and sniffled. He grabbed her gently by the arm and guided her inside. Once they reached the living room he pressed her down onto the couch and went to get her a washcloth from the hall bathroom.

This felt oddly reminiscent of when she had done the same for him, after being pushed around and banned from the locker room. He walked back into the living room, feeling self-conscious about his pajama clad form and sleep rumpled hair.

He settled himself on the low coffee table in front of her and softly patted her cheeks with the cool cloth before she reached up to take it from him. He idly patted his hair into place and let her compose herself for a moment before he couldn't take it anymore.

"Rachel, what's wrong?"

She took a deep, shaky breath and looked up into his face. The expression she was wearing promised nothing good. "I need you to be honest with me. Is Finn homophobic?"

 _Shit_.

How was he supposed to answer this? Kurt could feel his stress mounting and silently pleaded with his skin to behave. Stress breakouts weren't cute and definitely not the way to woo your blond football sweetheart. He settled on doing something he detested: answering a question with a question.

"What makes you ask that?"

She breathed tearfully and swiped angrily at her face. Kurt reached out and grabbed her hand, curling his fingers around it and settling it on his knee. After a wobbly breath she continued, speaking softly.

"A lot of little things. How uncomfortable he is around my dads, how he bullied _you_ , how he's always so concerned about being popular or manly or how defensive or weird he gets when we're supposed to do something remotely feminine in glee, like Gaga or Madonna."

She broke off and buried her head in her knees, muffling a sob. She abruptly popped back up and looked sadder than ever before.

"And last night, we went to a party. Azimio was throwing it and I was only able to get through the door because I was dating Finn. I spotted Brittany and went to ask her about her cat; I saw that she had to take Lord Tubbington to the vet and wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Her voice broke on the last word and Kurt brushed her bangs back from her face reassuringly. She sniffled once more before plowing forward.

"He's fine, by the way; I saw you commented. She lost her motocross helmet and thought that he may have eaten it."

 _Brittany,_ Kurt thought fondly before refocusing on the conversation at hand.

"I made my way back outside and Finn was with a group of guys on the team; Azimio, Karofsky, Dunham, the real meatheads. I overheard them talking… about me. They said it was no wonder I turned out the way I did, being raised by—by _faggots_ ," she hissed. "How it wasn't surprising I was so weird. And how could Finn stand coming over to my house for dinner, or yours."

She sobbed again, breath hitching shrilly. "And Finn made this _face_. And said something like 'I know man, it's so weird. And it's not even the girly one that cooks at her dad's.' like that means something. And he went on about how maybe that's why the food was so weird, even though I've told him I'm a vegan and my dad's follow kosher practices."

She shook her head and looked to him pleadingly. "Is there more? Has he said or done anything to you?"

Kurt bit him lip and his silence gave him away. He saw Rachel gearing up for a rant (or sobfest) and rushed ahead. "Yes, he has said things to me. You know about the debacle when he first moved in, and things have been tense between us for some time…" he trailed off, not knowing if he should tell her about the latest incident with the tall teen.

"Please," she begged. "Please, I need to know."

Kurt took a deep breath and steeled himself. "Things got really difficult when football camp started. He saw Sam and me getting friendly."

Rachel looked confused at the mention of Sam and remembered that Rachel was one of the two people in the world that still used Myspace more often than Facebook.

"Sam is starting in the fall; he joined football camp and we met on the first day," he explained. "Finn must have thought I was pushing myself on him. When Finn offered to help Sam help his friend move, he said something to him. About how he needed to be careful because guys like me don't know when to stop."

Rachel looked aghast and Kurt felt guilty, but knew he had to finish. "Sam got really upset. His best friend, Blaine, is gay too; he was the one they were helping move into his house. Sam told him to leave and that he should be ashamed of himself."

The brunette girl nodded encouragingly, paying rapt attention. Kurt felt his throat start to close up and tears prick his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to will them away.

"Finn came home and he was livid. He stormed inside and I followed him, asked him what was wrong. He said it was me; I was wrong. That it was my fault things got so messed up. He stormed out and disappeared for the rest of the day."

Rachel looked crushed and his heart really went out for the girl. "If it's any consolation, I don't think he _thinks_ he's homophobic. I think that he's awkward, and an idiot, and needs to think before he opens his mouth, but I don't think he is _trying_ to be malicious. I just think he doesn't understand, and I don't really think he wants to."

She nodded, visibly deflated. Kurt knew she was going to have to make a hard decision and found himself softening towards the Jewish girl. He grabbed her hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

"C'mon. I know a great recipe for vegan waffles and then we can go downstairs; you can take a shower and borrow something to wear. There's a stack of musicals with our names on it and we can have ourselves a little lady-chat," he offered, voice light and airy.

"Besides, I have some gossip you might like to know about," he said, thinking of Sam and one Jesse St. James.

Their waffles were devoured over idle chit-chat and then Kurt shooed Rachel into the hall shower with some of his shorter workout shorts and an old McKinley gym shirt and told her to take her time. She hugged him gratefully (and tearfully) and stepped into the bathroom.

Kurt headed downstairs and snatched up his phone.

_One message from Sam_

The delicate teen opened the text, heart fluttering wildly.

_Just wanted to say goodmorning :) txt you later_

Kurt smiled but didn't text back, knowing Sam would when he had finished camp. He hurried into the shower and rinsed quickly before taking care of the bird's nest residing on his head. He took his time conditioning, gently combing the knots out with his fingers.

He washed the cream rinse from his hair and hurried to get dressed. He breezed back into his room and made his bed. He felt a shiver run threw him as he thought of what happened on it the afternoon before. His mouth stretched into a wide grin.

Kurt moved on to this DVD collection and grabbed _Mamma Mia_ , figuring Rachel could use a pick-me-up. She came down the stairs toweling her hair as he was settling onto the bed to wait. She smiled as she saw his selection and made herself comfortable on his (freshly washed) sheets. He pressed play and waited.

He didn't have to wait for very long.

"So, what's this gossip you have?"

He smiled and looked over to her slyly. "I knew it was killing you."

Rachel just clucked her tongue and impatiently nudged him with her toe. He took a deep breath and looked at her.

"Good news or maybe kinda-bad news first?"

The dark haired girl truly looked torn for a moment before reply with "Good."

Kurt heaved a silent sigh of relief. "I'm… kind of seeing someone. Well, more than 'kind of'," he said.

Rachel squealed in delight and looked at him, completely ignoring the movie. "What's his name? Where did you meet him? Have you kissed yet? What does he look like?"

He had to laugh at Rachel's enthusiasm. She was genuinely happy that he was happy and he resolved then and there to get closer to the petite girl. He held a hand up to ward off her questioning so that he could begin explaining. She quieted immediately and focused all of her considerable attention on him.

"His name is Sam; we met at football camp," he began. "He's got blond hair and these hazely-green eyes and amazing full lips."

Rachel interrupted, asking if he had a picture. Kurt reached under his bed and pulled out his netbook, quickly navigating to Sam's Facebook page. He clicked through Sam's pictures, certain he was smiling like a loon.

The tiny girl hummed appreciatively before looking back to Kurt. "You did well," she said, awed.

Kurt burst out laughing, nodding smugly. "I did."

"He has kind eyes," Rachel observed. He nodded thoughtfully; he'd thought the very same thing. Her smile turned sly. "So, have you kissed?"

 _Oh, have we ever_ Kurt thought wryly. "Yes," he admitted, causing her to squeal again.

She hugged him and gave a little shake. "I'm so happy for you," she exclaimed.

"Thanks, Rachel," he whispered. "Really."

She nodded seriously before taking a deep breath. "Bad news, now?"

Kurt bit his lip and nodded grimly. "I don't know if it's bad. More like a confession, maybe?" he said hesitantly. Rachel looked at him in concern and gestured for him to continue.

"Jesse St. James is in town; he came into my dad's shop."

Rachel's face remained curiously blank, so he continued on. "He and I got to talking and he apologized for what he did. I've been talking to him for the past couple weeks. He really wants to meet with you, to apologize. I'm really sorry, Rachel. I know how upset you were when he pulled a Brutus on us before he scrambled eggs on your head."

She took a deep breath and spoke. "I… kind of already know Jesse's in town."

Kurt looked at her quizzically and she continued. " I went to the library a few days ago to try to get a head start on planning my solos."

 _Of_ course _she did_ Kurt thought, nonplussed.

"He was sitting at the piano. His back was to me but I'd recognize those curls anywhere. I ran," she admitted.

"He tried to kiss me," he whispered. "I turned away."

For a moment Rachel looked startled but then her expression changed to sly. "Are you trying to tell me that _Jesse St. James_ , play boy extraordinaire, _tried_ to kiss you, and you turned away?"

"Yes?" he replied.

Rachel just shook her head with mirth. "Shoulda let him kiss you," she teased. "He's a great kisser. I would know."

"Rachel!" he exclaimed, shocked. And then, "You're not… mad?"

She sighed. "No. When we were dating I always thought it was weird he never talked to you; I always thought you guys would get along really well." She ran her fingers through her damp hair. "Does he really want to see me?" She asked, uncertain.

Kurt deadpanned and looked at her disbelievingly. "Rachel, he's stalking you. What do _you_ think?"

She bit her lip before looking at him sheepishly. "Is it wrong that I'm weirdly flattered?"

He laughed and shook his head. _Meant. For. Each. Other._

"No, I guess it is kind of flattering, in a creepy way."

"Should I talk to him?" she asked seriously.

He sighed. He hated to give her advice on this because he worried he might be wrong and mess things up for his new friends.

"I think," he began slowly. "That you _want_ to, but you're worried it's another trick. For what it's worth, _I_ don't think it's a trick. I've only really known him a few weeks but I really think that he regrets what he did to you and just wants the chance to apologize. I think he's done some growing up. We all have."

 _Except Finn_ he thought sadly, but kept it to himself. Her decision was going to be hard enough. Kurt knew there would be hell to pay if they broke up and Rachel dated Jesse but he couldn't bring himself to care at this moment.

The girl was silent for a moment, the sounds of Meryl Streep's singing filling the void. She finally turned to him with a determined look on her face. "Can I have his number?"

Kurt nodded and reached for his cell phone. He gave Rachel his digits and looked to the girl for any signs of distress. She seemed apologetic as she began to speak.

"I really appreciate you being here for me Kurt; I know you didn't have to be. We haven't always seen eye to eye in the past and I half expected you to close the door on me this morning. I don't want you to think I'm leaving as soon as I got what I wanted… but I really need to see where this goes. And think about Finn. Do you understand?"

Kurt smiled reassuring and pulled her into a quick hug. "Of course I do. I'm so glad you aren't pissed at me for befriending the guy who broke your heart last year." He pulled back and gave her a pat on the thigh, encouraging her to get up. "Go on; you have a lot to think about."

He followed Rachel up the steps and hugged her once more as she got into her yellow Smart Car. She called out that she'd return his clothes as soon as she'd washed them and disappeared down the driveway.

He shut the door with a blustery sigh and slid down the smooth wood. This was _not_ how he had anticipated his day going. He peeled himself off the floor and forced himself up and back into his basement.

He trudged back down to his room and collapsed onto the bed; he was hopelessly bored. He decided to send St. Owes-him-his-life-for-braving-the-Rachel-dragon a text.

_You owe me, St. James. Expect a call from one Rachel Berry in the near future._

He didn't even bother putting his phone down because he knew that the response would be immediate. Predictably, his phone rang with his response.

_Seriously?_

He rolled his eyes.

_Of course I'm serious. She came over this morning for a lady-chat._

He didn't need to reveal the real reason for her visit; he was sure Jesse would know soon enough, and from her own mouth. The phoned pinged.

_You're a king among men._

_No, seriously, thank you_

Kurt smiled and just let it be. He was glad his two new friends may be on the road to forgiveness. It was always easier when your friends liked each other.

He sighed massively and resigned himself to lurking on Facebook for the rest of the day. He quickly signed in and looked over his page. New Directions had exploded all over his relationship status and he just didn't have the drive to look through them all.

Before long he was bombarded by Miss Mercedes Jones via Facebook chat.

 **Mercedes Jones** KURT ELIZBETH HUMMEL! DONT U DARE SIGN OFF!

Kurt groaned. He had no chance of escape.

 **Kurt Hummel** Yes, Mercedes?

 **Mercedes Jones** Dont even white boy! U know what

 **Kurt Hummel** Sam?

 **Mercedes Jones** Who is this boy? Where did u meet him? how old is he?

 **Mercedes Jones** his page is prvt i cant see him!

Kurt shook his head fondly at his friend's tenacity. He loved her but he honestly wasn't sure if she was more upset that he had kept this secret or that she wasn't the first to know.

 **Kurt Hummel** I met him at my aborted football camp endeavor. He's going to be starting McKinley in the fall. He used to go to Dalton. And yes, you can meet him soon.

 **Kurt Hummel** ish

 **Kurt Hummel** Soonish

 **Mercedes Jones** grr!

He sighed. Having friends was wonderful but there were some things you just want for yourself; just for a little while. Friends felt entitled, and while he wouldn't trade his friends for the world (maybe a Tony), he wished they were less… nosy.

 **Kurt Hummel** Cedes… I want you to meet him, and soon, but I just want this for myself. Just for a little while. We're already going to get so much ugliness when school starts that I just want to savor how easy it is right now without having to worry about my best friend interrogating/water boarding my boyfriend.

He felt a tingle go through him. _Boyfriend_. He stared at the screen and saw Mercedes start and stop typing a number of times before text appeared in the window.

 **Mercedes Jones** I know, bb i get it. Its not right what they do to u. All i gotta say is that boy better have what it takes to deal with the jock stupidness because if he hurts u I will CUT him

 **Mercedes Jones** :)

 **Kurt Hummel** I love you, Cedes.

 **Mercedes Jones** love u too bb

 **Mercedes Jones** I gotta go. lunch at aunt gina's

 **Kurt Hummel** Have fun, my diva.

Mercedes signed off and he heaved a massive sigh of relief. His conversation with his best friend had gone much better than he had planned. He had anticipated an in person meeting with yelling and lots of sassy finger waving, leaving him scolded within an inch of his life.

Perhaps it was better it was solved over the internet. Kurt wasn't so sure he could have been so calm face-to-face. He _has_ been known to diva-out on occasion…

He looked up at his TV, the _Mamma Mia_ menu playing on loop. He glanced over to his alarm clock and saw that it was only 1:30. He snatched up the remote and pressed play. Rachel may have bailed on their movie marathon, but Kurt was in the mood for some musical medicine.

* * *

Sam groaned as he dragged himself off the field. Tryouts had run late to make up for lost time and he didn't think there was a muscle in his body that wasn't screaming in agony. He had hung back and waited until the majority of the players had left; he just wasn't in the mood.

He pressed open the door and sluggishly gathered his shower caddy, grimacing when he saw Finn was still in the locker room. He took his place in the farthest stall and adjusted the faucets, turning the temperature as high as he could stand it.

He closed his eyes and let the water sluice down his body for a long moment, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly melt away. He blindly reached for his shampoo and found it with ease. As he finished his shower he thought about Kurt, and the reaction of his family to his new boyfriend.

Sam knew that they hadn't known each other for very long but he was very optimistic about their relationship. However, he knew his parents (mostly his mother) would start dropping hints about bringing Kurt to dinner.

It's not that he didn't want them to meet Kurt; it's more that he was worried what they might tell him. He remembered the dinner they had with Gordon and shivered. His father had glared at the boy all night because he couldn't refrain from leering and his mother had nervously told inappropriate stories about his childhood that led to Gordon calling him "Guppy" for the three months they were together.

And then there was Blaine to consider, though he may be having his own boyfriend dinner at the rate things were going. Puck's pickup had been in the driveway last night and his mother had mentioned a charming boy with a mohawk which he could only assume meant Noah Puckerman was one heck of a lady charmer if he got his mother to look past the "atrocity" on his scalp (his mother had strong opinions on hair; it didn't help his complex).

He hadn't _seen_ him leave but Blaine had burst into his room after Sam had gotten out of the shower and swept him into an exuberant hug and congratulated him on making it official with Kurt. He tried to ask about "Noah" but Blaine was a slippery gent when he wanted to be.

Instead he listened to Sam gush about the glasz-eyed beauty he was officially _officially_ officially dating. His mother had made peach cobbler and called them down for dessert and was so excited to hear that he was with Kurt (he guessed it had something to do with Kurt being well dressed; he was blond, not stupid) that she let him have ice cream with his cobbler.

His father had teased him, predictably, but all in good fun. And not because it was a _boy_ , but because Sam couldn't stop blushing for the life of him. That and he was miffed that he was the only one that hadn't seen him.

Hence the dinner anxiety.

He came back to himself when the water suddenly went cold. He yelped and grabbed his towel, swiftly wrapping it around his waist. He shook out his hair and glared at the tiled stall. He collected his things and made his way to his locker so he could get dressed.

And, you know, text Kurt.

He grabbed his phone and sent his _boyfriend_ a quick message.

_Made it through practice in one piece. How are you?_

By the time he had slid into his pants, Kurt had already texted him back.

_I'm alright, glad you didn't get hospitalized :P_

Sam buried his head into his locker, away from Finn's questioning (read: nosy) gaze.

_Me too :) What are you doing today?_

Sam typed the last part hesitantly, not wanting to come off clingy. This relationship, hell, their friendship, was still really new but he just wanted to have every second he could with the slender boy before the new year at McKinley started.

He shrugged into his shirt and closed his locker, scooping up his phone as it buzzed with Kurt's response.

_Running around town, getting ready for classes : \ You?_

He really needed to do the same…

_Prolly the same, with blaine. He still gets lost around Lima_

He quickly marched out of the locker room and made his way over to his car. Standing near his mom's car (which he was still borrowing, damn rain) was Noah Puckerman. Sam slowed his progression towards his car and came to a stop a few steps away from the ripped teen.

"Evans," he said with a nod.

"Puck… Can I help you?"

The mohawked teen gave a curt nod and a quick look around. "Yeah, couple things. One: don't mess with Kurt. He and I haven't been the best of friends but I'm trying to change that. And two: watch out for Finn," he said seriously. "He hasn't figured out that you and Kurt are together, but there might be problems when he finally picks up on it. I don't know what, but that's the way it is. Just a heads up."

Sam stood there for a moment, slightly shocked. And grateful. "Thanks, really. And I'm going to do my best not to hurt him. I don't really need to think I need to say the same about Blaine, but know that if this is some kind of joke or phase and you hurt him, you'll regret it. So it sounds like we _both_ need to worry about Finn."

Puck nodded thoughtfully before holding his hand out for a shake. Sam took it and felt something settle inside him. Things at McKinley weren't going to be as terrifying as he thought with an ally like Noah Puckerman.

The gruff teen let go and gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder as he ambled to his pickup. He shook his head and slid behind the wheel, checking his phone once more before he made his way home.

_He'll get the hang of it in no time; not like it's very big :P Would you maybe like to meet for coffee later?_

Sam smiled. Coffee was the perfect way to introduce Blaine and Kurt. It was a low pressure, non-stressful environment for a first meeting. He hoped.

_Sounds great. Mind if i bring blaine?_

He waited for a response before staring up the car and was not disappointed when the pale teen texted him just a minute later.

_Not at all. Text me about it later? I'll probably be done sooner than you guys._

Sam texted back an affirmative before making his way home. He didn't bother calling Blaine, hoping that his friend didn't have any plans. He hadn't seen much of his curly haired friend's face these past few days and he was looking forward to catching up.

Before long he pulled into his driveway and noted that Blaine's Mercedes was there. He quickly hopped out and trucked up the steps, calling out he was home.

Blaine peeked out of the kitchen, smiling. "Hey! How was practice?"

Sam slipped into the kitchen and took a seat across from where his friend was eating a snack. "Brutal, okay otherwise. You doing anything today? Want to grab some lunch, maybe get some school stuff?"

Blaine smiled widely and Sam felt terrible for neglecting his friend so much. He resolved to balance his time better. He felt relief at the fact that he would be _able_ to, now that his friend wouldn't be spending his days in England.

"Yeah," the curly haired boy replied. "Lunch first? I was just picking at this, figured we'd eat when you got home."

"Lunch first," he agreed. "Where to?"

"Like you even have to ask," Blaine said with mock-exasperation.

 _Hattie's it is_.

* * *

The two teens chatted idly on the way to their way to their favorite restaurant and until the food was delivered. After Sam took a few bites out of his cheeseburger and looked to his friend.

"So," he began. "Sorry I've been a jerk."

Blaine dropped his fork in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"I've been so busy with camp and Kurt that I've kinda ignored you in favor of them. So, sorry."

The shorter teen looked to Sam and smiled. "Sam…" he began. "You haven't been a jerk; you've been busy. I've had plenty of things to occupy me while you go off and play." He said teasingly. He took a sip of his sweet tea before he continued.

"It took me a few days to unpack and settle completely. It was nice to have some time to myself, so I could just think about… well, you know."

Sam nodded; he did indeed. While Blaine was happy to not be uprooted and shipped off to England, he still missed his family. And then there was the mohawk.

"I feel kinda guilty, though. You know all about me and Kurt and I don't know a damn thing about what's going on with you and a Puck."

"That makes two of us," the dark haired boy joked. He took a deep breath and look to his fair friend. "Seriously. Right now, Puck and I aren't in any hurry to put a label on it. It is what is it and right now that's just fine with me."

He punctuated his thought by taking a decisive bite of his country fried chicken. Sam finished his own bite and looked to Blaine thoughtfully. "Do you mind if I ask what _it_ is exactly?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Friends with benefits, maybe? But not, like, the sleazy kind. We're friends with emotional benefits? We hang out. We talk; a lot. About everything. We kiss, fool around, and I'm really fond of him. But that's all for now."

Sam was a little surprised at his friend's admission. He didn't think his friend would be able to separate love and sex, or whatever. And if he knew his friend, he wouldn't be able to for long.

"Does that have anything to do with the fact that Puck is kinda new to… being with guys?" he asked.

"Not… really. I mean, like, yes, sort of, but I do believe him. I don't think it's like, a phase or an experiment. He really seems to know himself, and that's one of the things that really attracted me to him. That's pretty unusual for people our age."

Sam nodded; he sure as hell didn't know himself half as well as Puck did. Or seemed to. Maybe it was just confidence; he didn't have a lot of that either.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

Blaine relaxed into his seat a smiled softly. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Good."

The teens dug into their food, happy to keep quiet and devour the food like the teenagers they were. They finished and settled the bill before making their way to Blaine's car; their next destination the Super Target.

Sam smiled as he thought of their coffee date with Kurt after. The sooner they got their school supplies out of the way, the sooner they could meet up.

Sam urged his friend to stop dawdling (texting, presumably Puck) and drive. Blaine wanted a new laptop and he knew, he just _knew,_ they were going to get trapped in the Apple store. Again. Damn Geniuses.

* * *

Kurt smiled in happy exhaustion as he lugged his purchases out of his Navigator and into the house. Carole saw him coming up the driveway and rushed to help him carry his stuff inside.

Her car was in the shop since his dad had sworn he'd heard a suspicious noise coming from the engine. Kurt had a suspicion that is really had something to do with the ring box he'd found in his father's jacket pocket a few weeks ago and it was going to be some kind of elaborate surprise.

He smiled at Carole as she rambled about her day at work and answered questions about his shopping. She was cooking vegetarian lasagna for dinner, much to Kurt's pleasure. He was so glad he had a partner in his crusade for healthy cooking. It was also nice to have a mother-figure in the house again.

She left him in the kitchen to run upstairs. Carole and his father had a date tonight, further cementing his belief that his father was going to propose. Burt had hinted to Kurt that he was thinking of proposing, telling him that Elizabeth would always be his mother, and he'd never stop loving her, but he was glad that Carole was in his life, hopefully forever.

He carried his packages downstairs, making a few trips and peeking in on the lasagna while he was at it. He brought down his last bag and began to unload his purchases as he heard a ruckus upstairs.

He heard some muffled curses and a bang from the direction of the kitchen. Kurt furrowed his brow and slowly made his way upstairs, peeking his head in the door way hesitantly.

Finn sat at the kitchen table with his head in his heads, visibly deflated. "Finn," he said hesitantly.

The lanky teen's head shot and his frantic eyes focused on Kurt. His face darkened like a thundercloud and he went from dejected to enraged in two seconds flat. "This is your fault," he said dangerously. "I just know it is."

Kurt felt his heart drop into his stomach at the familiarity of this conversation. If Kurt had to put money on it, Rachel had broken up with him. "What are you talking about?" he questioned tiredly. "What's my fault?"

"Rachel!" he exclaimed, exploding out of the chair. It clattered backwards noisily, skidding across the floor. "She never would have left me otherwise! She's been obsessed with me for forever and you said something to make her leave me! She never would have thought of it on her own."

Even though it was somewhat true, he wasn't about to admit to it. "Did you ever think that maybe Rachel was just tired of being treated like somebody's favorite pet? If she left you if was her own decision; no one else can make that kind of choice for someone else."

"You're wrong!" Finn growled. "She _needed_ me. _I_ was the popular one; _I_ should have been the one to leave her!"

Kurt just looked at Finn and shook his head sadly, glad that his new friend had dumped the boy that would eventually be his step-brother. He had a lot of growing up to do.

"And _that_ is why she left you. You are such an insensitive jerk sometimes." Not his best work, but you can't be on _all_ the time.

" _I'm_ a jerk? You're the one screwing around with the guy that is going to get me kicked off the team!"

Kurt huffed and pointed a finger at the tall teen menacingly. "You listen to me, Finn Hudson. I do not, nor have I ever, _screwed around_ with anyone. Save that for the Cheerios and other football groupies that you revel in. If you lose your place on the team it's no one's fault but your _own_."

"Whatever!" he yelled. "Things were fine until that kid came along and messed up everything!"

Kurt huffed and rolled his eyes. "Sure, Finn. Did you think you were always going to be the leader just because you lucked into being the best player on an already crappy team? Now we have a real coach and a real team and you're just jealous you can't keep up."

Finn scoffed in disbelief. "Jealous of _what_? Like someone like _him_ is going to make quarterback anyway."

"What do you mean 'like him'?" Kurt asked dangerously.

"GAY!" he yelled. "No one would listen to a guy like him! Like you! Like Rachel's freakin' dads! It's no wonder—"

But Finn didn't get to finish that sentence because Carole stormed into the room, a woman on a mission. The color drained from Finn's face when he saw his mother.

"Finn _Hudson_ ," he hissed. "You get into that living room _right now_."

"I—I" he stuttered. She pointed her finger towards the living room and the taller teen trudged past his mother in grim resignation. One she was satisfied he was going to listen she turned to Kurt's trembling form.

"I am so sorry, honey," she whispered, drawing him into a hug. "I thought we were all past this, but I was wrong. I don't know where all of this is coming from but I am going to fix it, don't you worry." She kissed his cheek and her face turned hard before she followed her son into the living room.

Kurt took a deep breath and head back down to his basement, steadfastly ignoring the conversation (tongue lashing) that was occurring in the living room. He slowly descended the stairs and sat down on the last step.

His head thudded into his hands and he released a shaky breath. He wanted his father to be happy, and he loved Carole more than he ever thought he could love someone that wasn't his mother, but he didn't know if he could stand being around Finn; not if he didn't change.

His destructive thought pattern was interrupted by his phone ringing from across the room. He looked at the clock and noticed that it was nearly six. His mood lightened as he thought of Sam and their tentative plans.

He searched through his leather satchel and found his cell phone and smiled when he saw that it was, in fact, the blond teen.

_Hey you! Finished shopping?_

Kurt smiled in amusement at the fact that he took as long as the two of them to shop.

_Hi :) I just finished up a little bit ago. Still up for coffee?_

He tossed his phone down on his bed and looked at himself in the mirror. Still perfect, of course. He sat at his vanity and applied a little powder and dragged a comb through his already perfect hair. His phone chirped and Kurt got up to snatch it from the bed.

_Always :P Have you ever been to thedaily grind?_

Kurt laughed at his own expense. Due to his various shopping excursions, there wasn't a coffee shop in the tri-county area he wasn't familiar with. Since his father and Carole were still (presumably) going out it was going to be just him and Finn for dinner, and he needed to get out of the house for a while.

Even though he just got back.

_Yes I have :) I'll meet you there?_

Kurt was already gathering his things and climbing the stairs before Sam had messaged him back.

_Okie doke! We'll be there in 20min_

He slipped his phone into his bag and cautiously glanced around, half expecting to see a living Finn lurking around the corner. Instead, he found Carole in the kitchen, her hands wide apart and bracing herself against the counter, head bowed.

He cleared his throat, feeling the need to tell her he was going to meet his, well, boyfriend. He'd just leave that part out until after he told his dad. Thank goodness his father was computer illiterate.

Carole started and looked at him. She gave him a tense smile and turned to face him. "Hey, honey."

"Hey. Where's Finn?" he asked, noticing the absence of the taller boy.

She smiled sadly with a tilt of her head. "He went back to our place; I thought he needed some time alone to think." she reached out and swept a thumb across his high cheekbone. "Do you mind being alone tonight? Would you rather your father and I postpone our date?"

Kurt shook his head emphatically. "No, you guys go ahead. I'm fine. I think I am going to go meet some friends for coffee, if that's alright?" he asked awkwardly. Carole smiled at him slyly before playfully shoving him towards the door.

Maybe he spoke (thought) too soon. He resolved to check if Carole had a Facebook page as soon as he got to the coffee shop. He smiled weakly and headed out the door and scurried to his SUV.

He turned on the radio and sang along, the music lifting his spirits. He pulled into _The Daily Grind_ sooner than he anticipated. He stepped out of his Lincoln and looked around for Sam and Blaine. He didn't the two so he entered the shop and breathed in the heady smell of coffee and pastries.

He looked at the extensive menu, standing far enough back that it was clear that he wasn't ready to order. He worried his lip between his teeth while he tried to decide; he was kind of glad he's arrived before them,

Behind him, the bell over the door jingled, causing him to turn around in alarm. He beamed as he saw Sam's blond hair and customary grin. Behind him was Blaine, hiding behind his bangs and smiling shyly. He silently excused himself to the bathroom.

The blond teen smiled at him fondly and pulled him into a linger hug. He brushed his lips over Kurt's cheek as he pulled back, unsure how the smaller teen felt about PDA. Sam guessed he did well from Kurt's delighted flush and sweet smile.

He stood close to the other boy and looked at the menu while they waited for Blaine. "How was your day of shopping?" he asked.

Kurt smiled as he thought of the enjoyable day he spent puttering around the mall and shops around town. "Good. I'm glad I got everything I needed today and can just rest until school starts in August. How was yours?"

Sam sighed, a sheepish grin on his face. "We didn't really get much done. We spent the majority of the day in the Apple store, like we always do. Blaine got a new laptop since his sister drew all over the screen of his last one," he said with a laugh. "I kind of fell in love with the iPad, but I refuse to get one. I don't need one. I don't. Well, at least that's what I'm going to keep telling myself."

Kurt giggled but didn't tease him. He had his own problems with impulse buys, and none were as "useful" and an iPad. Were Chanel cufflinks amazing? Yes. Were they practical? Not remotely.

Blaine weaved through the patrons of the coffee shop and stood next to them. "Ready?" he asked.

Kurt nodded and made a snap decision as the trio stepped up to the counter. Blaine ordered a medium drip paid before stepping to the side. It was his turn and he looked to the petite girl with short, choppy black hair at the register.

"May I have a medium non-fat coffee frappe?"

The delicate girl nodded and began to ring him up when Sam stepped up and ordered his own drink, paying for them both. Kurt looked to Sam and bit his lip shyly. "Thanks. You didn't have to…"

Sam waved him off, smiling happily. "Don't mention it. I wanted to." He placed his hand on the small of his back and guiding him to the end to wait for their coffees.

Kurt silently vowed to pay for their dates, one of these days.

Blaine was waiting for them at the end of the counter, coffee in hand. Sam grabbed his coffee and handed Kurt his before gesturing for him to go ahead of him. Kurt was lead to what he thought must have been the friends' usual spot and waited for them to pick their seats before choosing his own, a big velvet affair.

He sunk into the chair and caught himself on the arm, not expecting the chair to be so soft. Sam chuckled at his startled expression and patted the space next to him in his asymmetrical chair. Kurt perched next to him gratefully, crossing his legs at the ankles.

His mind frantically searched for a conversation starter but the matter was taken out of his hands by Blaine. "Are you looking forward to school starting? I know I'm excited to be at a school where uniforms aren't required."

The pale teen nodded as he swallowed a sip of his frappe. "I can understand that; I don't know how people stand uniforms," he said honestly. "And I guess, I'm not _dreading_ school starting, but I'm not looking forward to the jock squad. No offense," he said to Sam, gently patting his knee.

"Is it that bad?" Blaine asked hesitantly.

Kurt sighed and looked back and forth between the two. "It's gotten a bit better. It got worse after I joined glee, but then it tapered off again. We'll see, after this summer. They weren't too pleased with me being in camp," he admitted.

Sam rested his hand in the middle of his back and rubbed comfortingly. Blaine looked torn between nervous and intrigued.

"Glee?"

"Oh," Kurt said, remembering Sam mentioning him being in the Warblers. "Yeah, New Directions. When it first started we had some problems. But things have gotten better. For the most part. I don't know what the new school year will be like; hopefully better."

 _Probably not_ he thought cynically. _Especially not if they find out he's gay._

His thoughts invariably ran to Finn and the events of this afternoon. Sam must have noticed his grim expression because the blond boy leaned forward captured his gaze. "What's wrong? What happened?"

He tried to smile and shake it off but they weren't buying it.

"Is everything alright?" Blaine asked.

He sighed and figured he may as well talk about it. They already knew that Finn had a chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease. "Just…Finn."

Sam's brow wrinkled in concern, thinking about what Puck said earlier. "What happened?"

"It's kind of a long story," he said, hoping it would deter them.

No such luck.

Blaine looked at him sympathetically. "We've got time, if you do."

He looked over to Sam and saw his concerned, handsome face and caved. "Alright."

The three teens settled into their little corner and Kurt took a fortifying breath.

"This morning I woke up to someone ringing my doorbell. I thought it was Finn, because he never came home after all the rain yesterday. I ran upstairs and it was Rachel, his girlfriend. She was a wreck. She overheard Finn saying some really terrible things."

He hesitated before continuing but plowed on. "About her dads. Her parents are gay. He and the other footballers were saying it was no wonder she turned out the way she did."

When the two teens looked confused he clarified. "She's… intense. A diva at best and a loud-mouthed, bossy dwarf at worst," he said. He sighed guiltily. "That was unfair. She's just really driven. She came to talk to me because she wanted to know if he had said anything else. If I thought he was homophobic."

The two teens nodded in understanding, able to imagine how the rest of the conversation had gone from their own experience with the brash teen.

"I gave her some clothes to borrow and she took a shower and we got to talking. She had a lot of thinking to do so she left shortly after. I went shopping and shortly after I got home I heard a commotion in the kitchen."

Sam nodded grimly, having a feeling where this was going.

"I went upstairs and he was there. I guess Rachel made her decision and she left him and he just… couldn't believe it. Blamed me. Blamed you for making him lose quarterback. Said that the guys won't listen to 'people like us'."

The two teens looked affronted but Kurt just shrugged it off with a smile. "He didn't realize his mom was home."

The two teens laughed in understanding. No one could change someone's perspective quite like a mother. Sam was glad that Kurt shared the events of his day but now he wanted to change the subject to something a little more upbeat.

"So, I tackled Finn today."


	14. Congratulations

Sam sighed and relaxed into the leather seats of his Camaro. After his rather successful coffee date with Kurt and Blaine the slender teen had told him that he was more than welcome to take his car home. His father hadn't totaled the cost of the parts yet but he trusted him to pay.

He glanced in his rear view mirror and saw Blaine pull away, going to Puck's house presumably. The mohawked teen had texted when they were in the coffee shop and it had given them something to talk about. Sam noticed that Kurt loved to chat (gossip) as much as Blaine and was glad; Sam didn't always feel so talkative.

Before long, Sam pulled into his long drive and inhaled ravenously when he got out of the car. It smelled like barbecue. His father didn't often cook, but he loved to grill. His mother usually took control of their meals because as much as she loved their native Southern cuisine, it didn't love her waistline. Or maybe it did?

He hightailed it up the steps and into the house. "I'm hooo-oome!" he called. His saw his dad on the balcony who waved a set of grill tongs at him in greeting. He entered the kitchen and saw his mom putting together the sides. "Hey, mama."

Patricia turned and smiled at her son. "Hey, sweetie." She beckoned him closer for a hug and he went willingly. "Help mama take these out onto the balcony."

He grabbed the big wooden salad bowl and a fresh basket of rolls and hustled onto the balcony, R2 hot on his heels. He yipped excitedly as Sam placed the dishes on the table. "None for you, chubber," he cooed.

His mother stepped onto the stone patio with a pitcher of sweet tea, the table already set. "Sit down, sweetheart. We're all set."

The small family took their places around the table and laughed as their little Frenchie danced around their feet, a shameless beggar to the end. The food was dished out and they chatted idly, each member of the family covertly slipping R2 a scrap of meat.

Unsurprisingly, his mother brought up Kurt. "So, how is that charming boy you're seeing?"

His father smirked and focused his attention on his son. "Yes, how is he?"

Sam felt himself blushing, much to his dismay. "He's great," he murmured. "We had coffee before I came home."

His mother smiled encouragingly, reaching under the table to pinch her husband sharply. Robert quickly wiped the predatory grin off his face and schooled his features into something more supportive. "Have you met his family yet?" she asked.

Sam knew where this was going and groaned internally. "I met his dad, one of the days I was at the shop. One of the guys at camp, Finn, was his father's girlfriend's son, if that makes sense. From what I understand, they'll be step-brothers soon."

"How nice!" his mother gushed.

"Are Kurt's parents separated?" his father questioned.

"Oh, no," Sam said, worrying his lip. He supposed he should be glad this conversation didn't come up while Kurt was actually at the table with them. "His mother died when he was eight. His dad started dating Finn's mother about a year ago."

"Oh, the poor dear," his mother cooed. "Does he get along with them?"

"I think Kurt really likes Carole. He and his father are really close, but I know Kurt is happy to have a partner in his healthy eating crusade," he began. He wasn't sure if he should tell them about Finn. He'd never mentioned what happened that day she'd found them asleep on the couch after the tall teen's outburst.

The decision was taken out of his hands when his father asked "But?" in a rare insightful moment.

"But he and Finn don't always see eye to eye. I know they've been having problems lately, and they've had problems in the past."

"Why's that?" Patricia asked in concern.

"Um, I don't think Finn is very comfortable having a gay step-brother."

Robert's gaze became sharp. "Has this boy said something to you? Or Blaine?"

His mother looked to him anxiously, waiting to hear the answer. "Honey?"

"Don't worry about it," he stammered. "I took care of it. I really think he's just upset that I'm trying out for quarterback. He was QB1 last year and he hasn't been on his game these past few weeks."

Or at least he hoped the teen hadn't been on his game; he was kind of terrible.

His father nodded sagely. He knew lots of boys that were like Finn when he was Sam's age; upset with the status quo and they feel like their lives are falling apart. And it's everyone's fault but their own.

"Seriously, don't worry. I said something to him and he hasn't bothered me or Blaine since. I wish I could say the same for Kurt, but I think Carole may have finally gotten through to him, if what Kurt said at the coffee shop means anything."

His parents nodded but looked to each other skeptically once Sam focused on his plate. Things didn't change so quickly or easily, not for high school boys. Patricia vowed to be on the lookout for damage this thoughtless boy may cause her family.

"Well, maybe after y'all get settled at school Kurt can come over for dinner? Maybe next Friday? Or would that be too soon?" she asked.

Sam chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. "I…don't think it's too soon. Um, I'll ask Kurt if that's okay; I know that he has family dinners one night of the week."

Patricia smiled winningly at her favorite (only) son and gave him a fond pat on the hand. "You tell me what he likes and I'll make sure to fix it."

Robert smiled and remained silent. He had discovered that it was best to let his wife handle these talks because he always managed to put his foot way up in his mouth and that didn't earn him any points with Patricia _or_ Sam and usually resulted in expensive/difficult to find apology gifts. Finding an apology chaise lounge when you don't even know what one is an unpleasant experience he had no desire to relive.

Besides, Patricia really pulled out all the stops for significant other dinners.

The rest of the dinner chat revolved around Grandma Caldwell's birthday and how pleased she had been about Sam's attire. Sam was pretty sure that his mother was aiming for a shopping partner in Kurt. Or at least someone to spruce up his wardrobe, a feat she had yet to accomplish.

The blond teen glanced inside at the clock and saw that it was almost nine o'clock and felt his insides flutter in panic/joy. He and Kurt had made a Skype date for 9:30 and he wanted to clean up a bit beforehand.

"Dinner was great," he said to both his parents. "May I be excused?"

His mother smiled as nodded. He grabbed his plate and kissed both his parent's cheeks on his way to the kitchen. He quickly rinsed his dish and placed it in the dishwasher before he rushed upstairs. He opened his door and made his way to his bed, snagging his computer from underneath.

While he waited for it to turn on he had a quick shower to get all the mall cooties off. Sam was convinced that the majority of illnesses were passed around in shopping centers. He cringed when he thought of all the people that had been playing with the iPad he had been caressing longingly.

Which he totally _didn't_ need, thank you very much.

He stepped out of the bathroom at 9:25 and scurried to his bed. He quickly settled down and opened Skype and waited for Kurt to sign in.

He didn't have to wait long. Not even two minutes later Kurt signed in and "called" him. Sam pressed accept immediately and felt his face stretch into a goofy grin at the sight of his boyfriend. "Hey," he breathed.

He could see Kurt's flush slowly spread across his cheeks. "Hello."

* * *

Kurt groaned as his alarm went off at nine the next morning. He had been up late into the night, restless and confused.

He and Sam had only talked for about an hour before they called it quits for the night. The other boy had football in the morning and he was now more invested in Sam getting quarterback than ever. He had sternly told the blond teen to go to bed and text him when he was finished practice and Sam readily agreed.

It was after that Kurt's night went sour. About thirty minutes after his late shower he heard his father and Carole arriving from their date. Their happy laughter floated down to his basement while he went through his nightly moisturizing routine. He furrowed his brow in confusion when he heard a tentative knock on his door.

"Come in!" he called, raising his eyebrows when both his father and Carole descended the steps to his room, smiling madly. "What's going on?" he asked.

His father put his arm around Carole and looked to her before speaking. "Carole and I went out to dinner tonight and I thought it was about time I asked her a serious question," he began. "Kurt, I loved your mother, I still do love her, but Carole makes me feel a way I never thought I'd feel again."

 _Oh my God_ Kurt though numbly. _Oh my God._

"There is only so long that you can date someone before you're just stringing them along at our age. And I'm not doing that to Carole. I asked her to marry me," he said, turning to smile at her. "And she said yes."

She burst into happy tears and threw her arms around Burt. Kurt made himself stand up from his vanity and hug the two in congratulations but unable to ask about the details of the happy occasion. He smiled reflexively when Carole focused her watery grin on him.

"Kurt," Carole said softly, squeezing him to her warm side. "I would never try to replace your mother, ever. She was your mother and you love her and she holds a part of you I can never have and would never try to take. But I do hope that maybe we can have our own special relationship."

Kurt felt a little something in him relax at her words, but still had difficulty swallowing around the lump in his throat. He didn't understand why he felt like his world was falling apart, but he did. He knew it was childish and selfish but all he wanted to do was throw himself on his bed and yell that Burt was _his_ dad and no one else could have him and then commence wailing for the better part of the night.

Instead, he'd force himself to gush over Carole's (admittedly) gorgeous ring and then cry quietly in his bed until the wee hours of the morning while trying to hide his misery from his father. Burt Hummel was a bloodhound when it came to his baby boy's emotions.

Kurt feigned exhaustion after about twenty minutes of gushing and theoretical wedding plans. His father and Carole went up the stairs after another hug and Kurt followed them to get a cup of Sleepy Time tea. He was going to need it.

The adults retired to Burt's room ( _ick_ ) and Kurt quickly sought the safety of his room. He collapsed tearfully onto his bed and smothered his hiccupping sobs in his goose down pillow. PETA friendly? No. Sound proof? Yes.

He didn't understand why this came as such a shock to him. Earlier this evening he had already come to the conclusion that this situation was inevitable but now that he was staring it in the face he just… didn't know what to do.

He felt hugely conflicted. On one hand, he _did_ care for Carole, maybe even love her. She was amazing and she liked his quirks and never said one thing to discourage him. On the other, he felt like his life was changing at this rapid pace and he was being forced to deal with and confront things that just broke him down.

Carole living here would mean his mother was well and truly gone. He'd lived without her for eight years but he'd felt the gaping hole her absence left in his life every day. He'd have to share his life, his home, and his father with people that were _not_ his mother.

A fresh round of tears flooded his eyes. He abruptly sat up and rushed to the bathroom to wash his face. Crying just left him tired and miserable and blotchy and he just wanted to go to bed so he could be rested for his lunch date with Jesse tomorrow.

As Kurt slowly padded back into his room he sighed massively. He slid into bed and burrowed tiredly under the covers, letting the weariness he felt just seep into his bones. He felt his body become heavy until even holding his eyes open became too tiresome.

When nine o'clock rolled around Kurt felt as though he had only _just_ closed his eyes. He glanced at the clock and nearly wept when he saw that it was, in fact, nine, and not just a ploy to make him expire over his breakfast smoothie.

He dragged his sore body from bed and grimaced. Kurt always found it staggering just how physical crying was. Not that Kurt could call what he did last night _crying_. More like a hysterical, though mostly silent, weep-a-thon. His mouth felt dry and he knew his eyes would still be puffy and red. He forced himself into the bathroom and steadfastly ignored his reflection while brushing his teeth and washing his face.

He trudged upstairs and poured himself a glass of orange juice, standing and just drinking it at the counter. As he finished and placed his glass in the sink, Carole came into the kitchen wearing his father's worn, brown bathrobe.

He took one look at her and just burst into tears. And not like just one, beautiful tear making its way down his porcelain cheek but real, wailing, choking sobs accompanied with what might have been "I want my mom!" and he doesn't want to cry but he _can't freaking stop_.

Carole just clucked soothingly and pulled him into the strong circle of her arms. "I know, honey, I know." He buried his face in her shoulder and whimpered sadly, clutching her close. Carole said nothing more but held him and rubbed his back, idly rocking them from side to side.

Soon his sobs tapered off to the odd snuffle or two and she pressed him into a chair and caressed his face lovingly. She appeared in front of him with a warm washcloth and he took it thankfully. He watched as she turned to the counter and began to put together what looked like a cup of chamomile tea with lemon and honey, which almost put him into tears again.

He felt like a terrible person. Here was this woman that knew so much about him and clearly cared for him very deeply and he was having a nervous breakdown about her joining his family, permanently. She placed the cup and saucer in front of him and gave him a soft kiss on the head.

He sniffled miserably and looked up at the kind woman. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Shh," she soothed. "It's okay; I understand. Honey, I'm honestly surprised this didn't happen sooner."

He looked at her in confusion and she slipped into the chair next to him and covered his trembling hand with her own. "Sweetheart, when your father and I first got together, Finn went through the same thing. Though with _much_ less dignity," she admitted. "And he didn't even really know his father. This is just another reminder that she's gone."

Kurt's heart was hammering in his chest. He was so worried about the conversation he thought they were going to have to have but it turns out they didn't _need_ to because Carole already _knew_. And she wasn't mad or disappointed or upset.

He felt his eyes well up with tears _again_ and he collapsed willingly into Carole's arms. He clutched her desperately. "Love you," he squeaked. And he did.

"I love you too, sweetie," she whispered. Kurt felt her cry some tears of her own, falling onto his overheated face.

They both chuckled bashfully as Carole pressed him back into his chair and started rustling around the kitchen. "How do pancakes and raspberry sauce sound?"

"Sounds great," he said. "I'll make the whipped cream."

* * *

Kurt pulled into The Crệperie and noticed the Lamborghini already sitting in the parking lot. He hopped out of his SUV and weaved between the cars and into the crepe café. He spotted Jesse sitting in the corner at a smile wrought iron and glass table, attention focused on his phone.

He waved to get his attention and made his way to his friend. "Hey," he chirped, sliding into the chair across from him.

His curly haired friend looked up from his phone and smiled warmly. "Hey, Hummbelina."

Kurt noticed the way Jesse put his phone out of the way but still on the table. "Rachel?" he asked slyly.

"Yes, Captain Smug. Rachel."

Before Kurt could formulate a reply, their waitress, Sophie, came to the table. "What can I get you gentlemen to drink?" she asked in her adorable French accent.

Jesse ordered a cappuccino while Kurt asked for an Orangina. The flipped open their menus and took in the countless crepe options. Kurt smiled at some of the names: Mona Lisa, Marie Antoinette, and Romeo and Juliet.

He finally settled on the Zorba, a Greek themed crepe, and closed his menu decisively. If he kept it open he would just change his mind five hundred times, he knew this from experience. Jesse also closed his menu and looked to the smaller teen expectantly.

"Go ahead," he said magnanimously.

Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. "Go ahead and what?"

"Gloat."

This did not clear up anything for him. "You know I'm not one to hesitate to demonstrate my superiority, but why am I gloating this particular time?"

"Because I was stalking Rachel to no avail and you managed to convince her to call me in the course of one conversation. I bow to your powers of persuasion." He actually sketched a bow from his chair, looking chagrined yet amused.

"Yes, well," Kurt said stuffily. "You'd do well to remember that. And that you owe me. Seriously, more than you can ever know."

"Oh?" he asked curiously. "More than graciously allowing you to date my ex?"

"Please, like you're so torn up about it," he said, rolling his eyes. "When you've had to deal with the Finn Fallout to the extent I have, we'll talk."

"That bad, huh?" Jesse asked with a sympathetic grimace.

"Worse. Everything is my fault. Sam doing well in camp, me quitting camp, me being a villain for dating the guy that made him look like the bumbling idiot he is, Rachel breaking up with him—"

"Rachel broke up with him?" Jesse exclaimed.

 _Shit_.

"Uh, yeah. I kinda figured Rachel may have mentioned that…" he trailed off guiltily.

_Me and my big mouth…_

"No…" he replied. "She hasn't said anything."

Kurt groaned, annoyed at himself. "It would be great if you could pretend not to know anything until after she tells you. Please?"

"I suppose I could forget, just this once."

"Thank you," Kurt said gratefully.

Then Sophie returned to the table with their drinks and took their order, providing a break in the conversation. The teens ordered and looked to each other.

"So, how _are_ things with Rachel?" he asked.

Jesse shrugged and let out a tired sigh. "Better?" he began, no hint of the overly confident boy of the past. "Definitely better than where we left off. It'll take a while, but I think we move past what I did and be friends."

"Good," Kurt replied, hopeful that his friends could soon get over all the badness in their shared past.

"And how are things in Hummeland?" Jesse asked, sipping his cappuccino.

"Other than Finn being a constant pain in my side? I don't know," he admitted.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jesse asked.

"No," Kurt clarified. "Nothing to do with Sam. It's… my father and Carole are engaged."

"Uh-huh," Jesse said carefully.

"And I just… I don't know. Carole is great and I love my dad, but Finn is really stressing me out. And it just… makes me miss my mom," he said thickly. "Like, really bad."

"Kurt…" Jesse said comfortingly.

"And then last night I cried for hours. And this morning I burst into tears in the kitchen as soon as Carole walked in, which was embarrassing, to say the least," he whispered.

"Hey," Jesse said, catching his eyes. "That's completely okay. From what I understand, she isn't going to judge you for it, and she probably won't tell your dad."

Kurt nodded. He and Carole had shared things before that he was certain she had never mentioned to his father. He was broken out of his reverie by Jesse speaking again.

"I don't mean to bring up something to upset you, but do you think it would help if you went to see her? Your mother?"

"I—I don't know," he said tearfully, cursing his inability to keep a straight face.

"Would you like someone to go with you? I'd be more than happy to go with you if I'm here, you know that. Or maybe Sam?" he suggested. "It might be good for you."

"Maybe you're right," Kurt relented. "I'll think about it."

"'Kay," his friend said gently. The two teens smiled at each other, glad to have had the chance to reconnect before Jesse would be headed back to California.

Kurt had just opened his mouth to begin some inane bit of chatter when Jesse's phone buzzed on the table, Rachel's name filling the screen. He smiled and shook his head fondly. "Go on, answer her."

Jesse smiled in thanks and scooped up his phone just as their waitress came back with their lunch. "Thanks," he said with a smile as placed a glass of water on the table. She nodded politely and disappeared as quickly as she came.

Jesse put his phone back down and with a sweet smile softening his features. "Well?" he asked?

"She agreed to meet me later on tonight, in person, so that we could talk."

"Oh," Kurt said, surprised. He didn't think the tiny girl would be ready to trust him so soon. Perhaps she valued his word more than he thought? Or maybe _he_ valued his word more than he should… "Where?"

"The park near her house. And before you say it, I'll be on my best behavior," he said sincerely.

"Well, alright then. And I wish you luck, for however you want this to turn out."

They smiled at each other and dug into their respective crepes, Kurt feeling lighter than he thought possible.

* * *

It was Friday and the week passed in a blur for Sam. He hadn't had the opportunity to see Kurt since Tuesday night and couldn't wait until practice was over so he could see him. It seemed like so much had happened in their short time apart so they had plans to meet at The Lima Bean after practice, for celebration or consolation

Today was the day they were going to find out the results for the team. They would have tryouts as usual and then Coach Beiste would deliberate in her office while the guys hit the showers and waited for her to post this list.

His stomach was writhing with nervous tension as he dragged himself to the locker room with the rest of the guys. Sam knew that today was going to be a deciding factor in what his high school years were going to be like. And by extension, what things were going to be like for Kurt and Blaine. Sam wasn't naive, but he hoped his status as would-be-quarterback would maybe make things easier for the two flamboyant teens.

He smiled as he thought of his two favorite people in the world. Kurt had quickly become one of the most important people in his life and he was overjoyed that he seemed to get along with his best friend in the while world.

Things were pretty awesome on a personal level and he hoped they stayed that way.

He quickly opened his locker and grabbed his shower caddy and made his way to the showers, pretending not to notice the way Finn was glaring a hole into the back of his head. For someone that was so concerned with appearing straight he did an awful lot of staring at him in the locker room.

He navigated to the end of the stalls and took one closest to the wall. He noticed Puck get into the stall next to him and felt his anxiety mounting. He never did well with things like this. He didn't know how Blaine could stand auditioning for the Warblers all the freaking time.

Even though he always made lead singer. Maybe that was why he didn't get so nervous?

He sped through his shower and swiftly made his way back to his locker and managed to slip into his clothes before the rest of the boys had finished showering. He made sure he had all his belongings in his duffel bag and sat on a bench closest to the wall.

Coach Beiste said she was going to post the list on the message board outside the locker room about three o'clock. Sam glanced at his phone. 2:34. He groaned internally and quickly navigated to Kurt's text conversation and tapped a quick message.

_The wait is killing me_

The tension in the air was palpable and he didn't miss the venomous glare Karofsky and his cronies sent his way. His phone shook with Kurt's reply.

_The wait is killing *me*!_

Sam closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of teenage boys heckling each other. "Smack talking" his dad would say. Sam just felt sick, so he focused on Kurt.

_I can't wait to see you…_

And he couldn't. One of the great things about school starting would be the fact that he would be able to see Kurt, always. He phone buzzed again.

_Me neither! I already saved us the corner :)_

Sam was a little surprised that Kurt was already there and wondered how long the delicate teen had been at Lima's only coffee shop. Though he was glad that they got the corner area; more secluded from the rest of the shop so they could speak privately without threat of being overheard.

Suddenly, there was a commotion near the doors and Sam knew, _just knew_ , that Coach Beiste had put the list up. He felt his heart simultaneously plunge into his stomach and pound furiously. He forced himself to get up from the bench and walked stiffly to the door, letting the others pass first.

There was a lot of grumbling and kicking of walls as those that were cut quickly vacated the area, nursing bruised egos. He felt a spike of annoyance when he saw Karofsky's triumphant smirk before he strutted to his car.

 _Asshole_.

The blond teen ground his teeth together as he neared the list and nearly chickened out of looking all together. He knew quarterback would be listed as the absolute last position since it was the most coveted.

He slowly looked down the list and was chagrined to find some of the more aggressive (read: homophobic) jocks made the team with Karofsky, such as Azimio and Dunham. He smiled a bit as he saw Puck listed and felt a zing of happiness for his new friend.

Only to have that disappear when he saw Finn's name appear on the list.

 _Damn it!_ he thought vehemently. _God damn it!_

His angst was swept away when he finally looked chanced a look at quarterback.

**Sam Evans**

He felt his face split into a massive grin and gave in to the urge to pump his arm victoriously. Puck clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations, winking and nodding his head towards a fuming Finn. He quickly bumped fists with his newest friend and accepted congrats from various members of the group that weren't loyal to the freakishly tall teen.

He excused himself and sped towards his Camaro, texting Kurt the news.

_I made it! Im quarterback! :D_

He made it to his car in no time, tossing his bag in the trunk before sliding into the driver's seat. He checked his phone one last time before he began the short journey to The Lima Bean.

_:D Congratulations!_

Sam's heart soared and he quickly (yet safely) pulled out of McKinley's parking lot and drove to the coffee shop. Before very long (Lima _is_ a small town, after all) he pulled next to Kurt's Lincoln and hopped out.

He went to the counter and indulged in a medium caramel frappe with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. He figured he deserved it. He paid and waited for his coffee, noticing Kurt curled up in one of the armchairs, his back to the counter.

He thanked the barista that handed him his drink and picked his way through the tables and seats until he reached his boyfriend. "Hey," he said quietly, trying not to startle him.

The delicate teen jumped anyway and flushed sheepishly. "Hi," he breathed.

The blond teen quickly leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before sitting in the armchair next to him, slightly on an angle. Kurt reached forward and shook his knee animatedly.

"I'm so excited for you!" he gushed. "Even if that does mean you'll have to slave away over the field day and night. Hrmm, maybe not so excited, actually." His sly grin took the sting out of his words while Sam grimaced at the thought of all the practices he was going to have to endure.

"Didn't really think about that, if you can believe it," he admitted. "I'm sure it won't be too terrible, it's not _every_ night."

Kurt nodded in agreement but wasn't actually so sure. He only hoped Carole had given Finn one hell of a lecture and that it wouldn't be World War XXIII when he got home. The lanky teen had yet to apologize to him but he hadn't said anything further.

The other teen had actually been like a ghost over the past few days and Kurt couldn't help but wonder if their parent's recent engagement had something to do with it. Probably. His father had recently gone into overdrive with the renovations to their house and Kurt was grateful for the fact that he wouldn't have to share a space with the older boy.

And _shit,_ he still had to tell his dad he was dating Sam. Perfect.

"So, what have you been up to these past two days? We haven't really had the chance to talk," Sam asked.

"I know!" Kurt pouted. "But anyway. _I_ haven't been up to that much, but, um, my dad got engaged. To Carole, obviously."

"Oh," the other teen said cautiously, his suspicions confirmed. "Is that… good?"

Kurt smiled at the other teen's wary reaction. "It is; I'm happy for him. I just…" he trailed off with a shrug. "I dunno. I don't understand why this is so difficult," he said thickly.

Sam reached over and laced his fingers with Kurt's own, silently offering support. Kurt flashed him a sweet, watery smile. He pressed his fingers against Sam's weakly. "Thanks," he whispered. And then, "Jesse suggested I go visit my mom's grave."

Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully. "And how do you feel about that?" he asked. The blond teen was never comfortable offering advice in situations he couldn't even being to comprehend. Losing his mother or father is something he didn't want to think about, even hypothetically.

"Maybe I should?" Kurt said uncertainly. "It's been a while. I don't know if it'll help, but maybe I should try."

Sam nodded. He wanted to offer to go but wasn't sure how, wasn't sure it would be welcome at something so private and painful. But he needed to. "Are you comfortable going on your own? Or do you want some company?"

Kurt looked at him hopefully and he knew he made the right decision. "Do you want me to go with you?"

The slender teen nodded tearfully. "Please."

Sam brought their joined hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over Kurt's knuckles. "Of course," he said huskily. "I only asked because I wasn't sure if I'd be intruding on something… private."

Kurt chuckled feebly and looked at Sam, enamored. "You're amazing," he breathed. "Seriously."

The blond teen looked sheepish. "Maybe not so amazing. You've been invited to dinner with my family next Friday."

"Oh," Kurt said, surprised.

"It's okay if it's too soon!" Sam rushed to assure. "I'll tell my parents not yet. But, um, they asked. And I know that you do family dinner, so I told them I'd ask you and get back to them."

Kurt inwardly wriggled in pleasure. Sam wanted him to meet his parents, _officially_. "I'd love to come over for dinner," he replied. He was sure he'd feel differently come next Friday, but for now he was content celebrating the fact he had boyfriend that wasn't ashamed of him or trying to hide him.

"Oh, great," Sam said, surprised.

"You realize that you'll be forced to come to dinner at my house, with my crazy-overprotective father, right? Probably Saturday." Kurt explained.

"Uh, yeah," Sam said slowly. He shrugged. "S'kinda worth it. I want him to like me."

"Like I said," Kurt began. "You're amazing."

The tanned teen shrugged, feeling a flush spread over his cheeks. The settled into their respective chairs and chatted until the sun went down and both of their parents would be expecting them home shortly. As Sam stood up his stomach grumbled loudly.

"I guess I _am_ pretty hungry," he said as he followed Kurt to his car. The delicate teen smiled and nodded in amusement, unlocking his door. He turned to face the other teen.

"I'm glad we were able to get together," he said, bashfully swaying back and forth.

"Me too," Sam said with a goofy grin. He quickly looked around and saw they were virtually alone. He pulled Kurt close and inhaled the soft, powdery smell of him and sighed.

The slender teen melted into his arms and was content to be held. The two teens pulled apart after a long moment but didn't step out of the circle of each other's arms. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" Kurt asked quietly, looking up into Sam's kind face.

"Nothing right now," he began. "Maybe some gardening; my mom has been asking me to help move some stuff." Kurt worried his lip between his teeth; a habit Sam was beginning to notice meant he was unsure or shy. "Tell me," he said, giving the other teen a little shake.

"I was thinking of going to see my mom tomorrow. Now that I've been thinking about it I really want to go. If you aren't busy—"

"I'll be there," Sam interrupted. "Maybe we can get dinner later on? Sound good?"

Kurt smiled, cursing the tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes once again. "Sounds perfect."

"Would you like me to pick you up?" he offered.

"Yes, please," Kurt admitted.

"Alright," the other teen said. And then "C'mere."

He pulled Kurt close and pressed a lingering kiss to the smaller teen's lips. He gently licked the taste of coffee from his mouth and hummed happily. Before either could become lost in the kiss they were startled apart by a pair of headlights illuminating the dark.

The slim teen pulled back with a giggle before darting forward and pressing one last quick kiss to Sam's pouty lips. "Night," he bid.

"G'night!" Sam said, slowly navigating to his car.

He slid into the driver's seat and just sat there for a moment, watching as Kurt's SUV slowly passed out of view. He reluctantly started up his Camaro and pulled into traffic, making his way home, reflecting on the events of the day. He wide grin broke out over his face.

He was the freakin' quarterback!

* * *

Kurt pulled into his driveway and wondered what the chances were that he could catch his father alone. He had put off telling his father about Sam for as long as possible and was running the risk of him finding out through alternate means.

He grimaced as he thought about _Finn_ being the one to break the news. He hustled into the house and noticed the lack of sound coming from the living room. He headed into the kitchen, unsurprised to see his father sitting at the table, paperwork covering every inch. "Hey, daddy."

Burt looked up and smiled at his son. "Hey, Bambi. Just us tonight."

Kurt had to smother a whoop of joy at the news. Instead he turned towards the dishwasher and smiled in relief while he unloaded the dishes from the day before. He finished quickly and opened the fridge, surveying the contents.

He had a plan. A plan that involved steak and potatoes to literally and metaphorically butter up his father before he let it slip that he was dating the incredibly virile looking young man his father had left him alone with.

He was in luck; they had everything he'd need. "How do steaks sound?" he asked his father, trying for nonchalance.

"It sounds like a trap," he said skeptically. "Like that time you asked if I wanted ribs and lectured me about fat content for almost an hour."

That surprised a laugh out of the delicate teen. He'd forgotten about that. "No traps, Dad. We just don't get to have dinner by ourselves anymore. I wanted to make something nice." And really, that wasn't a complete lie.

His dad smiled and he glimpsed the man his mother had fallen in love with. "I'd like that," he said softly.

He quickly pulled off his father's ever-present cap and kissed him on the top of the head, depositing the hat on the table near the door. He quickly dropped the steaks in a bag and set to making a gingery marinade.

He stuck the steaks back in the fridge and began rinsing the few red potatoes they had. As he cooked his father chatted with him idly, asking him questions about his week and filling him in about the goings-on of the shop.

As was Kurt was sautéing mushrooms and onions to go on top of their steaks his father stepped onto the porch to take a call, which meant it was a supplier and his father was going to curse at this person. Seventeen and his father still refused to swear in front of him.

He retrieved the steaks and inhaled blissfully at the aroma as they began to sizzle. The steaks were just about done as his father entered the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you put some of those papers to the side and grab some plates?"

His dad haphazardly piled things and pushed them to the side as Kurt dished up the food. Along with the steak and mashed potatoes he made a salad and heated up some rolls; he was really pulling out all the stops.

His father hesitantly grabbed a beer and Kurt rolled his eyes but said nothing, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious once he finally let the cat out of the bag. Kurt grabbed a Diet Coke for himself and took a seat across from his dad.

His father dug into the meal with relish and Kurt was content to just let him enjoy it for a moment. Surprisingly, his dad gave him a perfect lead in. "I'm actually glad we're alone; gives me a chance to talk to you."

"Oh?" Kurt said, wondering what his father could have to say.

"Yeah. I gotta say, I'm sorry Kurt. I didn't think about how me just springing the news on you like that could affect you. Kinda put you on the spot…" he began.

"Oh," Kurt repeated, dumbfounded.

"I got carried away. And it was… insensitive."

"No," Kurt rushed to assure him. "It wasn't. I was just surprised, that's all. Its fine, I'm fine. Really. I'm happy for you." He smiled to show his sincerity.

"Yeah?" Burt asked.

"Yeah," Kurt admitted softly. " I love Carole."

Burt's eyes looked suspiciously wet. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I love you, Bambi; I'm so proud of you."

"Dad…" the slender teen said shyly. _It's now or never_ he thought nervously. "I, um, I actually have some news too."

His father's silverware abruptly clattered against the plate. "Oh, God," he said in a strained voice. "You're pregnant."

"What!" Kurt squawked. "Oh my god, Dad, _no_!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you," his father breathed.

"Why would you instantly assume I'm pregnant?" he sputtered.

"I don't know! You're joining football, and Lord knows what _those_ guys think with. Then that kid with the curly hair and the nice car was completely devouring you with his eyes and you've been hanging out with him. Then the blond, beachy lookin' kid, also with a nice car—"

"Ohmigod, _please stop talking_ ," Kurt begged. "That's not it at all."

 _Kill me now_ Kurt thought. _Just kill. Me. Now._

"Right," his dad said, the tips of his ears coloring in embarrassment. "Sorry for jumping to conclusions. What was it that you were going to say?"

"Uh," he choked out, stalling for time.

_This is going to be so awkward._

"Well, I'm _not_ pregnant, that's for sure, but I do, um, have a boyfriend," he managed to get out.

His dad stared at him. "Which one?"

_What?_

His facial expression must have given away his confusion because his father elaborated. "I can do the math. The curly haired punk or the blond muscley one?"

"Oh, um, the blonde. Sam."

"Thank God."

"What do you mean 'Thank God'?" Kurt asked, trying to decide if he should be offended.

"The curly haired one ain't afraid a'me, and that just won't do."

 _This is going so well_ he thought acridly. "Please, do not try to scare off my boyfriend," he begged.

"I wanna meet this kid," Burt demanded. "And doors open at all times. And no more alone time at the shop. I mean it, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"Yes, Father," Kurt murmured sulkily. Then he cleared his throat and plowed on. "Speaking of meeting him; I was invited to his house for dinner next Friday."

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Burt asked with a sly grin. It wasn't very often he managed to have the upper hand in a conversation with his boy and he intended on enjoying it.

"Both…?" Kurt replied, uncertain.

His father took a long sip of his beer and leveled a calculating look at his son. "Alright," he began. "But I;m serious, I wanna meet this boy. The sooner the better."

Kurt began to speak but his father silenced him with a look. The slim teen settled back into his seat a popped a bite of steak in his mouth.

"I know that Finn has been an idiot lately, and I recognize that it could be a disaster at this point. Carole told me he didn't make quarterback and has been growling at anyone in range."

Kurt groaned and his father looked at him in confusion. "Sam's quarterback…"

His father's eyebrows raised comically before he continued. "Your Sam?" he asked.

"Yeah…" he declared hesitantly.

His father stifled a laugh at Kurt's glare. "Then this is an even better idea than I thought. Tonight, Carole is taking Finn and they are going Up to Columbus to visit some family and tell them the news," and at this, his father smiles proudly again. "So it'll be just us, all weekend. See if he can come over for dinner this Sunday, and we'll talk about a 'new family' dinner at another time. 'Kay?"

Kurt nearly wilted in relief. "Yes," he said, nodding. "That would be great. Thank you, Daddy."

His father smiled warmly and just went back to his dinner, enjoying the treat with relish. The father and son duo talked about the most recent episodes of Top Gear they had watched together and made plans to spend time together after dinner.

Kurt cleared the plates from the table and quickly had the kitchen looking as spotless as it was before dinner. He ushered his father into the living room and relented to watching a few episodes of Deadliest Catch while eating some low-sodium popcorn.

"Don't suppose we could have some butter on this?" his father asked.

Kurt shot him a withering glare. "Don't push your luck."

* * *

Blaine had barely knocked on the door before Puck was pulling him inside, kissing him fervently. The curly haired teen chuckled into his mouth, fingers running the stripe of hair on Noah's head.

"Upstairs," the mohawked teen growled, playfully shoving the shorter teen towards the stairs.

Blaine laughed and rain up the steps, hearing Noah's thundering footsteps close behind him. Puck caught him right before he made it in his room, nipping at his neck sharply.

"Hey, hey! No marks!" Blaine squealed.

"Sorry," the muscular teen replied with an unrepentant grin. He nuzzled his face into the space between Blaine's ear and brushed his lips over the sensitive skin. He smirked when he felt the other boy shiver.

"Are we alone?" he asked.

"Just us," Puck replied, unexpectedly hefting the other teen up and tossing him onto his bed.

The curly haired boy made an indignant noise of surprise. "Hey!"

Puck just smirked and cocked an eyebrow in response. He crawled onto the bed and intended to press a steamy kiss to Blaine's lips, only to encounter the back of his hand. "C'mon, babe," Puck groaned, but Blaine persisted.

The other teen smirked predatorily before pitching forward, pinning the smaller of them to the bed and tickling him mercilessly. Blaine shrieked his displeasure and fought to escape the tormenting hands.

He quickly wriggled free (he was small but crafty!) and collapsed onto the bean bag Puck used for playing video games. Puck followed and pinned his arms to the squishy mass. He leaned forward slowly until his lips were just out of reach of the other boy's.

"Noah," he breathed, voice husky.

Puck crushed their lips together, pressing the firm line of his body into the smaller boy. Blaine groaned into his mouth, the vibration making him shiver with arousal.

That shit was _excellent_ , and Puck would know. Sex shark, remember?

He pulled away from the curly haired teen momentarily to peel his shirt off before making short work of his own. Skin to skin, the boys let their hands roam. After a moment, Puck registered that Blaine was pushing at him and he pulled away, confused.

Until Blaine started fumbling with the buckle on his pants. Oh _hell_ yes.

Puck quickly stood and shucked off his pants and boxers in one smooth movement before kneeling down and helping Blaine ease off his shoes and deliciously tight jeans. He took a moment to admire the other boy's cock straining in his boxer briefs before sliding them over his trim hips.

The two teens rubbed against one another, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over their skin and easing the way. Suddenly, Blaine reversed their positions, making Noah emit a startled yelp that quickly morphed onto a groan as the other teen licked a stripe of fire up his cock.

 _Shit_ that was good.

Blaine held his hips down firmly as he slowly sunk his mouth down over Puck's throbbing erection. The Jewish teen buried his fingers into the thick, curly hair and fought to keep his twitching hip from thrusting into that _warmtightohgod_ heat.

Blaine just groaned and started a steady rhythm of down, up, swirl, suck, pausing every so often to lap at the engorged head. Without warning, the other boy plunged downward and buried his nose into the short, coarse hairs near the base of his dick.

Puck shouted in surprised, hips jerking involuntarily. Blaine groaned and _sucked_ and Puck was gone. He came and came and came and he could feel the other's teen's throat working to swallow it all. He pulled back with a filthy 'pop', a thin rivulet of come running down the side of his mouth.

He yanked the other teen forward and licked it off with a growl. His calloused hand found Blaine's straining sex and he encircled it firmly. He stroked him firmly and quickly, kissing him messily.

The smaller boy's hips thrust into the cradle of his fist frantically, mewling desperately. With a final twist of his wrist, Blaine spurted between the two of them, come spreading across their heated skin.

Noah pulled him close and fell back onto the bean bag, licking into his mouth, kissing him softly as they both came down from their high.

Blaine cuddled close, face buried in the other teen's strong shoulder as he melted into Puck's embrace. "Oh!" he said suddenly, pulling back to look at the ruggedly handsome teen. "Um, congratulations on making the team, by the way."

He threw back his head and laugh heartily. "That was one helluva 'congratulations'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, Puck/Blaine smut!I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it. I think it's my favorite so far, idk why.
> 
> Well, I'm off to plan the next chapter! Please review and tell me your thoughts/requests :D


	15. Intentions

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed his handiwork. He had woken up at the crack of dawn to help his mother do some late summer gardening; moving fertilizer bags and the bigger plants, things like that.

Fall was coming and his mother had suddenly fancied herself an amateur farmer. He helped his mother move the fertilizer bags from the driveway to East Jesus Nowhere and was now "tilling" the land, or whatever his mom had said.

Slave labor, is what he called it. His mom picked her way around the bags and seeds and plants and pointed out spots he missed while drinking iced tea and wearing a ridiculously large straw hat, complete with sky blue tulle bow.

"Looks like its finished!" she called from the opposite end.

Sam threw down the tool with a relieved groan. His mother had the good grace to appear abashed at her son's harassed look as she drew closer. "Thanks, honey."

He just smiled and scooped her into a tight hug, laughing as she shrieked about him being sweaty. He set her down gently and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I think I'm going to go for a swim," he said, pointing towards the pool.

"Alrighty. Just leave your clothes outside and I'll take care of them later," she said as she slipped on her flowery gardening gloves. "There's some biscuits and gravy in the oven, whenever you're ready."

Thank, ma!" and with a kiss on the cheek, he trotted around to the pool.

He quickly peeled off his sweaty, soiled (literally) clothes until he was clad only in his boxers. He padded around to the deep and end dove right in, staying under as long as he could stand.

He broke the surface with a splash, drawing in huge lungfuls of air. He shook his hair out of his eyes and looked at the clock/thermometer hanging near the screen door. Only 8:35, plenty of time.

Last night, he and Kurt had chatted well into the night, only going to bed when his mom peeked in around midnight and reminded him she needed his help in the morning. He hung up with a promise to be on Kurt's doorstep at 12:30.

He gently propelled himself through the water, tipping over onto his back to float languidly. He could see R2-D2 staring at him from the side of the pool, staring at him with his adorable little head cocked. He paddled over to the pup and scooped him up, chuckled at his affronted grunt.

He lay back again, placing the Frenchie on his chest while he floated. He smiled as the dog glared at the water lapping at his tiny paws. He surprised the blond teen when he leapt from his chest and into the water.

Sam immediately went to grab for him but the tiny dog ignored his efforts and swam to the steps and looked to him expectantly, not being tall enough to climb out.

The boy laughed and figured that was as good a sign as any to get out and towel off. And then eat the biscuits and gravy his mom made. Yum!

He toweled off the dog and then himself, wrapping the towel around his waist. He shivered as he stepped inside, the cool air like a slap in the face. He quickly made his way to his room but spared a glare for Blaine's door, where his friend lies sleeping soundly and _not_ being coerced into manual labor.

Stupid muscles making him the perfect candidate for moving things and raking. Or tilling. Or whatever.

He pushed open his door and quickly slipped into a pair of sweats and an old Dalton gym shirt. He all but ran to the kitchen, excited at the prospect of eating his mom's homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. _Mmm._

He served himself and took his plate into the sitting room off the kitchen, clicking on the TV. He navigated to The Weather Channel and lucked out when he noticed weather on the 8's just started. Luckily, the weather looked nice, no real chance of rain.

Sam was no expert but he was pretty sure that rain and cemeteries don't mix, you know, emotionally. He was a little apprehensive about his trip to visit Kurt's mother. His mother's grave. Whatever. Dead things made him nervous and he was worried he would do or say something really, _really_ inappropriate.

Maybe he should bring flowers? Kurt could decide whether to keep them or bring them to his mom. Yes, that's exactly what he'd do. Sometimes he had awesome ideas.

He mentally planned the flowers he could clip from the garden and smiled. He quickly cleaned his plate and brought it back into the kitchen, clicking off the TV as he went.

He yawned and stretched tiredly, looking at the clock on the stove noticing it was barely 9:30. He snagged a bottle of water and dragged himself up to his room, belly full and muscles aching. Sam was looking forward to lying in bed until he had to get up and get ready to go to Kurt's.

He quietly shut his door and slid between his cool, rumpled sheets. He sighed in pleasure and wiggled about. He reached for his phone and debated sending a text to Kurt but thought better of it. He knew the slender boy had been the victim of one too many sleepless nights lately and wanted to him to rest up for what was sure to be an emotional day.

He turned onto his side and his eyes closed sleepily. He shook them open and reached for his phone, no longer resisting the inevitable. He set an alarm for 11 (AM damn it, he'd screwed himself one too many times with that) and placed it next to his head so he'd be sure to hear it, dozing off in seconds…

He was jarred awake by the blaring sounds of his Jace Everett ringtone, _Bad Things_. He quickly shut off his alarm and sat up, blinking blearily. He ran a hand though his hair and forced himself out of bed.

He pulled on a dark pair of khaki cargo shorts and rummaged around for a nice, yet still comfortable shirt. He figured he should look presentable if he was going to meet Kurt's mother, dead or not.

He was respectful like that.

He settled on a v-neck Blaine had urged him to buy from Hollister. It had three-quarter length sleeves and clung to his biceps nicely and the white stood out starkly against his tan. He slid into his navy blue boat shoes and made his way downstairs in search of his mother.

He found her outside, sitting under the shade of a large tree and drinking a glass of water. "Hey, Sammy," she said as soon as he was in hearing distance.

She looked tired but pleased. Sam looked at the garden and saw more than half of it was already planted and whistled in admiration. "Wow! Looks good, Ma."

"Thanks, baby," she said. Patricia patted the ground next to her and Sam happily plopped down next to her.

"So, um, I have a question ask," he said, idly running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His mother made a question hum so he continued on. "Do you think I could cut some of the late flowers? I, uh, wanted to bring them to Kurt. I'm going with him to visit his mother's grave."

His mother clucked soothingly and ran her (clean) hand through his bangs. "That's so thoughtful of you. And of course you can, honey. Those flowers are as much yours as they are mine."

"Thanks," he replied, content to just sit with his mother for a few more minutes and listen to the sounds of the garden.

"Okie doke," his mother said, standing up and using Sam's shoulder for leverage. "Time for me to get back to work. I want to get this done before it gets too hot."

He pressed a quick kiss to her son's forehead before grabbing her trowel and immersing herself in seeds and fertilizer.

Sam breathed in deeply and reluctantly got up from his spot in the grass. The he remembered he was meeting Kurt and couldn't find the pruning shears fast enough.

He grabbed a bunch of Baby's Breath because they were in, like, every bouquet ever and then surveyed all the late summer flowers.

Lilies, definitely lilies. His mother favored Casablanca Lilies, huge and white, and Belladonna lilies, these big, pale pink blossoms. A few fragrant gardenias were next, tiny compared to the elegant lilies. Finally, some Hydrangea, bunches of pinks and purples in every shade imaginable.

He hightailed it upstairs and dropped his floral bundle onto the kitchen table. He opened what was once the junk drawer and surveyed the contents. His mother had cleared it out and made it a flower drawer, filled with ribbons and scissors and the like.

He looked from the flowers to the drawer, helpless. This was as far as his knowledge went. He'd hate to ruin the effect by choosing a color that didn't match or something like that.

Just then, Blaine wandered into the kitchen, hair wet from the shower. He looked in surprise at the table before spotting Sam. "What's all this?"

Sam could feel his cheeks heating but tried to ignore it. "Um, flowers." _Well, duh, Samuel. Try again._ "Uh, for Kurt. We're going to visit his mom today."

Blaine's face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought she…" he trailed off, the rest of the sentence not needing to be said.

"Uh, yeah. He wants to go to her grave. I said I'd go with him if he wanted," he clarified. "I figured I'd bring them and then he could decide to keep them or bring them or whatever."

Blaine smiled at his best friend warmly. "You are an amazing guy, Sam Evans." He walked over to the drawer and drew out a pale green tulle ribbon with a subtle lace pattern and a pearlescent pin.

Sam accepted them with a grateful smile and took his time arranging the bouquet. "So," he began as his friend served himself biscuits and gravy. "Did Puck tell you he made the team?"

His friend suddenly flushed all the way to the tips of his ears and nodded jerkily. Sam could feel an answering blush on his own cheeks and dropped the subject. And also resisted the urge to defend his friend's honor. Virtue. Whatever.

 _Uncomfortable_ ….

When he was finally pleased with the arrangement he showed it to Blaine.

"It looks great, Sam," he said softly.

The taller teen blushed (even _more_ , sheesh) and slowly wrapped the ribbon around the stems, careful not to disturb the flowers. He secured the pin smiled. Sam was no flower expert, but it looked pretty amazing.

"He'll love them," Blaine said, reading his mind.

"Thanks, man."

Sam looked at the clock and decided he better get a move on if he wanted to make it to Kurt's. He never wanted to be late but he certainly didn't want to be late on the day they were going to visit his dead mother.

He patted Blaine on the shoulder and quickly made his way down to his car. He made an abrupt U-turn and ran to show his mother, hoping for one final seal of approval. And it was mom approval, so that was pretty much the best kind. Well, next to Kurt approval, of course.

She looked up from her work at the sound of him swishing through the grass. He held the bouquet towards her and asked "This okay?"

She smiled proudly at her son. He was such a sweet boy, so thoughtful. "It looks beautiful, sweetheart. He's going to love it."

"Thanks," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Bye, Ma!"

"Bye, honey!"

Sam walked back to his car and gently placed the flowers in the passenger seat, briefly contemplating buckling them in. He decided that would be ridiculous (It would crush the blossoms, hello?) and got in the driver's seat.

His engine purred to life and he smiled as he backed down the driveway, optimistic about the day's outcome.

* * *

_You will not cry. You will not cry. You will not cry_.

Kurt stared at himself and repeated the mantra he had been chanting for the past ten minutes. He had done enough crying in the past few days, thank you very much. Besides, he had just used the last of his waterproof mascara when he watched _P.S. I Love You_ at Rachel's, and that stuff was surprisingly hard to find.

He heaved a sigh and pushed himself back from his vanity. He entered his closet and changed his shirt for the thirteenth time in less than an hour, a tell-tale sign of his nerves. He hadn't been this uncertain about clothes since his first day of middle school.

He pulled on a soft seafoam green cotton tee with a pronounced boat neck over a pair of white, corduroy shorts. He peeled off his socks with his toes and meandered over to his shoe rack.

He decided to throw caution to the wind and slid his feet into a pair of tan flip-flops; leather, of course. He was glad that his father had decided to take his paperwork to the shop that morning after Kurt had anxiously spilled orange juice all over the kitchen and onto his father's favorite hat (an impressive feat).

He grabbed his phone and climbed the stairs, making his way to the hall. He grabbed his Chapstick and applied a thin coat before slipping it into his pocket. He glanced at the clock and saw that he had about forty-five minutes before Sam was due to arrive and groaned.

Curse his habit to prepare ridiculously early when he was nervous. And he had no idea why. His mother was dead, for fashion's sake! It's not like she could disapprove of his first boyfriend. Or his clothes.

And then there was the possibility that Kurt would break down and have a complete fit in the cemetery and completely scare Sam off. You know, that too. Why the hell had he thought this was a good idea? This was a lot of pressure on a new relationship.

He collapsed sideways onto the couch and stared intently at the centerpiece his father had been displaying since Kurt was in elementary school. He'd sculpted a pair of red, glittery high heels a la Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz_ , complete with light blue checkered blanket and misshapen dog.

It was the last thing he made before his mother died.

The slender teen propelled himself off the couch abruptly and into the kitchen. That trail of thought was not conducive to him remaining tear-free for the day. He opened the fridge and decided to attempt eating for the second time that day.

He grabbed a water bottle and some peach yogurt before sliding into a chair at the table. He mechanically ate his yogurt while staring at the fridge magnets, sipping his water on auto-pilot, attempting to keep his mind blank.

He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was, indeed, 12:30. He shook his head to clear it and quickly tossed his empty yogurt container before rushing to answer the door.

His heart thudded in his chest when he saw Sam on his porch, looking perfect and tan and adorably nervous. He extended his hands and Kurt noticed that he was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"For me?" he asked stupidly.

"Yeah," Sam replied, looking shy.

Kurt smiled and gingerly took the blossoms out of Sam's hands and brought them to his face. He inhaled and smiled at the pleasant, floral scent and delicate colors.

He realized he was standing in the doorway, effectively blocking Sam's way. "Whoops, sorry," he said, blushing. "Please, come in."

The tall teen smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He bent forward and captured Kurt's lips in a soft kiss. "Hi," he said, pulling back.

"Hi," Kurt replied, smiling, before focusing on the flowers once more. Sam cleared his throat and rubbed the back on his head self consciously.

"I, uh, got them out of the garden and wrapped them myself. I hope they're okay…" he stuttered quietly.

"They're perfect," Kurt assured, hugging him while being mindful of the blossoms. "Let me just find a vase for them."

He walked into the living room and grabbed a fluted vase from its display area and brought it to the kitchen for a quick rinse. As he waited for the container to fill he looked at the blossoms more closely.

"They're so pretty. I love the colors."

"I'm glad," Sam said, closer than Kurt realized.

He placed the flowers in the vase and set them on the kitchen window sill, admiring them for a moment. His _boyfriend_ brought him flowers. Who said romance was dead?

Ugh, _dead_.

He turned to face the other teen. "Are you hungry? I could fix you something before we go?"

Sam smiled and pulled Kurt close. "Nah, I ate a little bit ago. Thanks for asking."

The two teens stood in the kitchen for a minute, Sam petting Kurt's back comfortingly. The slender teen was taken aback by how Sam just seemed to _know_ things without being told or asked. His lady-chats with his friends made him certain that he was going to spend his entire life lecturing his significant other about things he was too dumb to realize.

Maybe that was only a problem and opposite-sex couples? Or maybe it was just Finn? The complaints mostly came from Quinn and Rachel…

Whatever the reason, Kurt was just grateful that Sam didn't push him to talk about things he couldn't even put to words if he wanted to. Yeah, he struck gold with this one.

He reluctantly pulled back and looked up at the other boy. "We should get going," he said regretfully. He'd like nothing more than to stay like this all day, just like this.

"Okay," Sam replied. "My car or yours?"

Kurt smiled devilishly. "Oh yours, definitely."

The blond boy rolled his eyes and ushered Kurt out of the kitchen and into the hall. He grabbed his wallet from the dish and slid it into this ever-present leather satchel. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and opened the door.

He locked the door behind them and followed Sam to the car, smothering his besotted smile when Sam opened the door for him. He slid into the low seat gracefully and folded his long legs into the car, noting the covetous way Sam glanced at them.

Wiles, ladies. Use them.

Sam got into the car and clicked his safety belt before revving the engine. He carefully backed out of his drive and onto the street. "Fell free to change the air or radio however you like," he said, glancing at him quickly.

Kurt nodded and looked at the road. "Do you know how to get there?" he asked.

"Uh," Sam began. "I think so. It's on Summerland, right?"

"Mmhmm," the slim teen clarified.

They drove in silence, Sam reaching over to hold the other boy's hand shortly after they pulled away from his house. Kurt was grateful for the distraction of the blonde's calloused fingers brushing over the back of his hand, focusing on the light touches.

Far too soon for Kurt's liking they pulled into the parking lot of the cemetery. Huge tree covered in moss lined the roads and pathways where the countless souls of Lima rested. He drew in a shaky breath and looked to Sam as pulled his hand away to put the Camaro in park.

Sam fixed a Kurt with a concerned look, bringing his hand up to brush his fingers across his cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can turn around, no problem, no questions asked."

"I want to," he assured. "I just… it's been a while. And things are so different. I honestly don't know what to expect."

Sam smiled sweetly and leaned forward for a chaste kiss. "Just do what you need to, don't think about me. I'm here; for whatever you need me for. Moral support, shoulder to cry on, anything. 'Kay?"

"Okay," he replied, unbuckling his seatbelt.

They got out of the car, Sam locking the doors with an automated beep. Kurt gestured for Sam to follow him. His mother's grave was located quite far out, in one of the less densely populated areas.

His father had purchased a plot near the edge of the area and two of the spots around it. Kurt had found the paperwork while he was cleaning his father's makeshift office in the laundry room. He wasn't sure how he felt about having a funeral plot at his age but it comforted him knowing that he could be with his family in the very end, if he so desired.

As they neared Elizabeth Hummel's final resting place his grip on Sam's hand tightened. Seeing his mother like this always made shocks of raw emotion shoot through him. He was starting to rethink this idea.

A massive oak tree covered his mother's grave, its heavy branches sprawling over headstone and providing a dappled area of shade. The bench they had picked out sit sat on the edge of her plot, gardenia bushes on either side.

Kurt had nearly cried when he realized what flowers were in the bouquet Sam handed him, their familiar scent mingling with the lilies. They teens paused near the bench, unsure how to proceed.

Sam was struck by just how _sad_ this was. He knew visiting a grave was going to be a serious and somber occasion but he never thought it would make him think about all the 'what if's and 'one day's of his own parents passing.

Kurt seemed so small and delicate when really he was stronger than Sam ever could have imagined; being able to experience the loss of a parent and still be able to smile and laugh and _function_. Sheesh.

He squeezed Kurt's hand in support as they stared at the portrait of Elizabeth Lillian Hummel, forever smiling serenely.

The slender teen sniffled and pulled his hand away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Kurt opened it and smoothed out the lines, staring at the paper blankly.

Sam pointedly looked at the ground, not wanting to intrude or pry. Kurt noticed and looked to him, mustering up a water smile. "S'okay," he whispered. "You can look."

Sam wasn't sure that he wanted to, but he thought he _needed_ to. He gently placed his hand on the small of Kurt's back and took a deep breath before focusing on the paper.

_Hey Mommy,_

_I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but it's really hard to be here. It's strange knowing that you're physically_ _ right here _ _but nowhere near enough because I can never touch you again and it hurts but it's still no excuse. I'm sorry._

_Things are so different now. Dad is still the same but he doesn't seem so sad anymore. He met someone; Carole. She's great but she isn't you. I want to love her but it just makes me think about you and I feel really confused. I'm scared that if I let myself love her I'll forget you._

_Even though it hurts, I never want to forget about you and I don't_ _ want _ _another mother. You're all I need. But I feel terrible every time I look at Carole and think about how much she seems to care for me and for Dad and all I want to do is hide of scream or cry because I miss you and it isn't fair that she gets to be here when you don't._

_But now Dad is engaged and things are going to change whether I accept it or not. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that even if I let myself love her she'll never take your place. No one ever could._

_Now I think about all the things I'll never get to share with you and I have to wonder what you'd have said or felt. When I came out, Dad said he knew but I didn't have the heart to ask him about you. I don't think it would have come as a surprise, you we're always more observant that Daddy was, but now I'll never know._

_I met someone, too. It's still new but he's amazing and I wish you could meet him. His name is Sam and he's just like you said. Remember? I'll never forget, even though some of the things I've had to eliminate from the list. Fighting dragons has seemed to go out of style and Daddy hasn't locked me in a tower. Yet._

_I have so much more to say but I don't know how to get it out so I'll just promise to come back soon instead._

_I love you so much. I never stopped and I never will._

_Until we meet again._

_Your loving son,_

_Kurt Hummel_

Kurt carefully folded the letter and walked forward, placing it on his mother's headstone. He back up slowly, sending a prayer to whoever might be listening for his mom to get his letter.

He swiped at his face, his hands uncooperative and heavy. He looked up at Sam and was surprised to find him teary eyed as well. He nuzzled close, pressing his face to the crook of his neck.

Sam's arms came around him, strong and comforting. The blond teen pressed a lingering kiss to his hairline. He stared at Kurt's mother's grave intently.

 _My name is Sam_ he thought. _I'm dating your son. I hope that's okay. He's amazing and strong and beautiful and I promise to take care of him_.

Kurt pulled back and grasped his hand gently. "Let's get out of here," he said softly.

Sam nodded silently and led the way back to his car. On the way back he took the time to look at the other grave markers and contemplate all the other loved ones that rested here. He shook off his melancholia and forced himself to smile at Kurt.

If this was difficult for him it was doubly so for Kurt. He tucked the smaller boy under his arm and felt warmth blossom in his chest when Kurt melted into his side.

They came up to his car and Sam opened the door for Kurt again, closing it behind him gently. He got in and turned to face Kurt. "Alright?" he asked.

Kurt managed a weak but heartfelt smile and replied, "Alright."

Sam squeezed his knee affectionately before starting up his sports car. "So," he asked. "Where to?"

Kurt flipped down his sun visor and looked at himself in the tiny mirror with a grimace. "Home, if you don't mind. I don't know about you, but I want to wash my face. And…"

"And?" Sam prompted gently.

"And I just want to go home and watch a movie with my boyfriend."

Sam felt a lazy grin spread across his face as he gazed at Kurt. "As you wish."

* * *

Kurt splashed cool water on his face and exhaled in relief. Visiting his mother was more emotionally draining than he had ever anticipated. He was so glad he had asked Sam to go; his support really helped.

He turned off the water and bathroom light before entering his room. Sam was kneeling in front of his DVD collection and chewing his lip thoughtfully. He'd left Sam to choose a movie and it looked like the blond teen had made very little progress.

Normally, Kurt would have just reached for the first Disney movie he saw, but not today. Ever notice that _no one_ has a complete set of parents, if they have parents at all? It hit a little too close to home for the moment.

"Any ideas?" he asked Sam.

The muscular teen groaned and shook his head. "I'm really indecisive today. You pick," he mock-commanded. Really, he was just nervous he'd pick the wrong movie and Kurt would be upset all over again.

Kurt smiled at Sam's transparency and nudged him out of the way. After a cursory look he snagged _The Hangover_ , a recommendation from Artie. "I haven't seen this yet but I really just want to watch something mindless. I hear that it was hilarious."

Sam nodded enthusiastically. Mindless was just what they needed. And _no_ molesting this time! Dead mom's were serious business and definitely not sexy at all.

Kurt gestured for Sam to make himself comfortable while he popped the movie in. The tanned teen opted to scoot back and lean against the low lying bed frame, pulling a blanket down for Kurt.

He always seemed to be cold, and of course he would be! There was practically nothing to him. He had seen Kurt get on the scale when Coach Beiste was doing their stats and he knew for a fact that he could bench press at least two of Kurt.

The slender teen turned around and smiled as he saw Sam's position. He gave an exaggerated, put-upon sigh before curling into the other boy's side.

He glanced at the open door without conscious thought. Since he told his father about Sam he figured he should adhere to the "open door" policy Burt had stressed.

Well, at least for now.

The movie started and he burrowed further into the cradle of Sam's arms. Kurt hadn't cuddled until he was seventeen years old; he figured he had a lot of time to make up for.

He'd have to thank Artie for lending him the movie the next time he saw him; it really was hilarious. And something he was glad he didn't volunteer to watch with his father. Awkward…

He spared a thought for his wheelchair bound friend. Tina was his girl. But he could tell Artie was really bummed about their split. He'd gone over for a consolatory bout of old school Nintendo and Artie's mom's awesome cookies when he'd leant him the DVD.

Kurt focused on the movie once again and laughed as the trio got tasered. Before they knew it the film hand ended and their sides hurt from laughing; maybe a bit too much.

Something about the earlier sadness made the movie all the more funny. The credits rolled and the two boys reluctantly separated.

Sam looked to Kurt and blurted out "I'm so glad I went to football camp."

The slim teen raised his eyebrows in surprise at the seemingly random statement.

The blond boy blushed and stammered on. "I mean, I almost chickened out of camp. If I did, I wouldn't have met you under the same circumstances and none of this may have happened. Is that stupid?"

Kurt smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Sam's defined jam. "No," he said. "It's not stupid at all."

He laughed suddenly and Sam poked him in the side until he would share.

"I never thought I would see the day _I_ was glad I went to football camp."

Before Sam could respond his stomach growled loudly. He looked to Kurt sheepishly. "Uh, guess I'm hungry."

"Apparently," Kurt joked. "Did you still want to have dinner?"

"Uh-huh," Sam replied intelligently. "What are you in the mood for?"

Kurt sighed and plopped back onto his plush rug, cushioning his head on his balled up blanket. "I don't know…"

Great. They were back to this again.

Sam followed Kurt and spread out on the floor next to him, playfully tugging his makeshift pillow. "Well, how hungry are you?"

"Famished," the smaller teen admitted. Yogurt is not a filling breakfast.

"Why didn't you say something sooner, silly?" the blond boy asked.

"Um, I just noticed?"

Sam chuckled and linked his fingers with Kurt's. "Okay. Soooo… Hattie's?"

Kurt shook his head fondly. "What is it with you and that place?"

"What?" Sam defended. "It's delicious!"

Kurt nodded grudgingly. Delicious? Yes. Fattening? Hell yes.

He sighed dramatically. "I guess."

Sam saw right through it. "Please, you love it."

The tall teen rolled to his feet and offered his hand to Kurt, who took it gratefully.

"Might wanna grab a sweater," Sam cautioned. "It's gonna get chilly when the sun goes down."

Kurt nodded on acknowledgement and disappeared into his closet, coming out with a lightweight, cream colored jacket.

"Ready?" he asked Sam.

"Yes, sir," he replied with a tiny bow.

He gestured for Kurt to go up the stairs ahead of him. Each of them patted their pockets before leaving, making sure they had everything. They nodded at each other decisively and slipped out the door, Kurt locking it behind him.

They made their way to Sam's car, buckling up and swiftly making their way to Hattie's. Kurt sat in the car pretending to fiddle with his satchel, giving the blond teen the time he needed to make his way around the car and open his door.

Kurt smiled as Sam offered his hand to him and climbed out of the Camaro. They enter Hattie's and Gracie smiled from her spot behind the counter. "Table for two?"

* * *

It was Sunday and dinner was in t-minus seven hours. Kurt had been up since seven am and was three seconds away from an absolute nervous breakdown. He had been scouring the internet for _hours,_ trying to find the perfect "Dad, meet my boyfriend, please don't kill him" meal.

He'd been through pork, steak, chicken, seafood, and ethnic cuisines like Chinese, Thai, Indian, Bengalese, you name it. Most of the ethnic food was too vegetarian to appease his father and the spices would be damn near impossible to find. Maggie didn't carry _everything_ after all.

Finally he decided to cook something Southern inspired, in the hopes of impressing Sam and sucking up to his father. The couple times they had been to Hattie's Kurt had mentally taken notes on what the other boy liked eating.

After some careful research he settled on chicken fried steak with sausage gravy. He knew he made amazing mashed potatoes so he added the ingredients to his ever-growing list. After a brief debate he added collard greens with bacon and homemade biscuits.

Sure, it was going to be a challenge. But Kurt Hummel was nothing if not ambitious.

He dressed in his most comfortable skinny jeans and a plain white shirt. He was a man on a grocery shopping mission. He slid into his converse, his most practical shoes, and snagged his phone.

He climbed the stairs and made a quick detour to the living room. Burt was going through the programs he recorded during the week and it looked like he was watching _Shark Men_. Kurt watched for a moment and cocked an eyebrow in appreciation. That underwater camera man was quite nice looking.

He shook his head and looked to his Dad, waiting until he had his attention. "I'm going to go to the store to grab something for dinner. Is there anything else you'd like?"

He could tell there were tons of things his father would _like_ , but he knew that Kurt wouldn't be willing to get them. "Um, maybe some snacks?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Snacks" was code for chips and jerky and Twinkies. "I'll see what I find. We're having chicken fried steak tonight, 'kay?"

Burt looked at his son in confusion and surprise but didn't say anything. He wasn't one to question a good thing, nor was he stupid. This was about Sam. And anyways, he'd get his answers later tonight. That muscled teenager didn't stand a chance against Burt Hummel.

Kurt bent over and kissed his dad on the cheek and made his way to the car, grabbing his sunglasses on the way out. Fabulous.

He trotted to his Navigator and hopped up into the driver's seat. He checked his pockets one last time for his shopping list and he was on his way.

Kurt cranked up the radio in his car and sang along to his iPod, smiling when Etta James' _At Last_ came on. He didn't like to put all his eggs in one basket or count his chickens before they hatched, but Kurt thought he could fall madly and dangerously in love with Sam Evans quite quickly.

He pulled into the supermarket and grabbed his satchel before locking his car. Through his sunglasses he spared a glare for the small group of Neanderthals that was loitering outside the store. Kurt Hummel may be a little slip of a thing, but if you messed with his car, Gaga help you.

He grabbed a cart and tossed his bag inside, pulling out his list and a pen before starting with the non-perishable items. He hummed to himself as he slowly filled his cart. He wasn't just doing shopping for the most important dinner of his life, though that was stressful enough, he was also picking up the things they'd need for the week.

As he steered his cart into the produce department he was distracted by the unusual amount of fresh vegetables (trying to complete with his dear aunt) and sniffed at them disdainfully. As much as he hated to support Maggie's competition, he _really_ needed those collard greens.

As he was bent over the leafy greens he was attacked from behind by a wild Mercedes. He let out an embarrassing shriek and turned to face his would be attacker, wielding the collard greens like a weapon.

His mocha-colored friend got a mouthful of the bitter plant and sputtered out a laugh. When he saw his assailant was none other than his diva counterpart he deflated in relief.

"Mercedes Amanda Jones, what in the world is going through your fabulous head?" he mock-scolded.

The black girl was unrepentant, and just smiled sassily. "I think after leaving me in the dark about all your secret love shenanigans you need to be reminded to be afraid of my thunder, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sketched a little bow. Mercedes giggled and reached for the leafy veggies, looking them over curiously. "I love me some collard greens, but what are you doing with them? I didn't think this stuff was quite your style."

The slender teen took a deep breath and steeled himself. "Sam's coming over for dinner; to meet my dad. His family is from Louisiana and I _know_ my dad like's them. I'm hoping to make a traditional Southern dinner."

His dark friend nodded in understanding. "Insurance policy," she said smartly.

"Yes," Kurt responded. "Exactly."

She looked back to the far end of the produce department and saw her mother was gesturing towards the meats. Mercedes turned to Kurt with a look of displeasure on her face. "Gotta go, white boy. You better call me later," she said with an air of warning.

"Of course," Kurt responded easily.

His friend stepped forward and pulled him into a warm embrace. "Good luck, Kurt," she whispered, feeling the tension in his slim form. She pulled back to look at him. "Just relax, it's gonna go great."With a final pat on the cheek she left her friend to finish his shopping in piece.

Kurt smiled, happy to have seen his friend. Her impromptu encouragement made him feel so much better about the events of later this evening. He scooped a hefty bunch of greens into a produce bag and made his way to the meat department.

After nearly 20 minutes talking to the butcher about the best cuts of steak for what he was doing, as well as a recommendation on which bacon to buy, Kurt was ready to check out.

He quickly loaded his cart onto the belt and commenced playing Angry Birds for the next twenty minutes while the incredibly senile, but sugary sweet, cashier scanned his purchases.

He was pleasantly surprised at the total and swiped the family credit card his father had given him for such occasions. And, you know, the occasional designer scarf.

He made his way to his car and released a breath he hadn't know he was holding when he saw Emmy just as pristine as when he left her.

He hadn't _really_ thought the meatheads would do anything to his car but one can never be sure when you're a big, flashy fish in a tiny, backwoods pond.

He made it home with little incidence and unloaded everything into the kitchen. It looked like an episode of Paula Deen had exploded all over his kitchen. He promptly banished his father from the kitchen and started washing the numerous veggies that were going into the night's dinner.

As he scrubbed the supermarket cooties from the vegetables he stared happily at the arrangement of flowers Sam had not only brought to him, but made himself.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

Well, Kurt may steal that title after tonight's dinner. It was going to be amazing. _Or. Else._

Before long all the veggies were cooking (with the copious addition of fat-back bacon) and Kurt was getting ready to fry the steaks. Chicken fry the steaks. Whatever.

And then biscuits. Sheesh. Sometimes he could really kick himself in his ambitious, fashionable behind.

His father peeked in a few times and Kurt gave in and made the man a BLT. Burt happily munched away on the sandwich while Kurt finished frying and mashing and baking and before he knew it dinner was completely ready with the exception the sweet tea he was fixing.

He placed everything on serving platters and placed them in the oven to keep them warm. Dinner wasn't set to start for another twenty minutes and he didn't want all his hard work to go to waste.

He glanced over at his phone and noticed it was blinking with a missed message. He grabbed it unhurriedly and checked. A missed text from Sam.

_On the way :\ kinda nervous, excited to see you_

He knew Sam was driving but wanted to send a reply.

_Don't worry, my dad will love you. You're amazing. Can't wait to see you :)_

He walked into the living room and looked (glared) at his father until he reluctantly got up and changed into something a bit more presentable. He loved his father, flannel and all, but there was a limit.

Pleased that his wishes were being fulfilled, Kurt ran downstairs for one last outfit check and to tame any rebellious hair.

He glanced at his anxious form in his full length mirror and exhaled shakily. His cheeks were flushed with nerves but otherwise he looked impeccable. No one could dress for an occasion quite like him.

He had changed into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, the denim so dark it was almost black. He wore a charcoal grey vest over a fitted light grey shirt (long sleeved, of course). On his feet was a pair of form fitting suede boots, black and perfect.

 _Not bad_ he thought to himself. _Not bad at all._

Just as he finished running a comb through his hair the doorbell chimed, sending Kurt into a panic. He wasn't there to answer the door! Heavens knows what his father could be saying to his beau.

Why was he still standing here?

Kurt dashed up the steps and paused to catch his breath before throwing open the door. He slid into the hallways just as Burt was opening the door, revealing a nervous but resplendent Sam.

He was wearing one of the outfits they'd picked out at the mall. Wonderful navy dress pants with a deliciously tight (but still respectable) cashmere sweater. The cream colored sweater looked amazing against Sam's tanned skin and blond hair.

His father greeted Sam gruffly and motioned for him to come inside. The muscular teen looked so amusing, cowed by the middle-aged man in a ball cap.

That. Damn. _Cap._

Kurt could feel his teeth grinding in annoyance and nearly marched down the hall and ripped the accursed item off his father's head. He resisted, only because that was not the way to start this incredibly nerve-wracking dinner.

He stepped more fully into the hall and noticed that Sam had brought a guesting-gift with him. Kurt practically preened at his boyfriend's thoughtfulness and took control of the small gathering.

"Hi," he called softly.

Sam turned to him and smiled warmly. "Hey."

His dad just scowled at their exchange and trudged back into the living room. "Wash up for dinner!" Kurt called. He listened to his father grumble all the way to the hall bathroom before heaving a silent sigh and hugging Sam firmly.

"You look great," he whispered.

"Thanks," the blond replied. "I had some help. This guy I know is a total miracle worker."

Kurt blushed prettily and stepped out of the embrace. "And what have we here?"

Sam look confused for a moment and then realized he was still holding a pie dish. "Oh!" he exclaimed sheepishly. "Uh, I got my mom to help me make pecan pie. It isn't as pretty as when she does it all on her own but…"

He held on the heavy glass dish and Kurt took it carefully. He looked at the admittedly messy pie and smiled, helplessly charmed. "It looks wonderful."

 _Love doesn't make you blind, it just helps you over look the little things_ the slim teen mused.

Well, maybe _love_ was a strong word at this point, but "extreme like" and "besotted-ness" don't really have the same ring to them.

"Come into the kitchen," he whispered. "I'm pretty sure my dad is eavesdropping on us from the living room."

The tall teen looked dreadfully alarmed for a moment before he managed to collect himself once again. He gestured for Sam to take his designated spot (next to him, but across the table from his father) and called his dad in from his position spying on them in the hall.

"Dad, dinner's ready. We're waiting on you!"

Burt slinked into the kitchen and slid into his seat with much more grace than he usually displayed. Kurt turned to the stove and rolled his eyes while retrieving dinner from the oven.

He placed the platters on the table and swelled with pride at the ravenous looks on his two favorite men's faces. Kurt took his place as the table and gestured for them to help themselves.

Kurt took bird portions compared to the appetites of Sam and his father. He held his breath as they bit into the steaks. His father merely nodded gratefully while Sam turned to him and beamed.

"This is amazing! Seriously, on par with my mom's."

Kurt swelled with pride but just quietly chimed "Thank you," and took a dainty bite of his own dinner. _He_ was shocked at how well it turned out. But, then again, it was bacon and sausage and gravy and steak all together on one plate.

"So," his dad began.

 _Oh dear, sweet, merciful McQueen. This is it_.

Kurt abandoned eating altogether and just pushed the food around his plate, ready to jump in and steer conversation.

"You're on the football team?" Burt asked.

Sam swallowed (around the lump in his throat, not Kurt's delicious dinner) and looked at Mr. Hummel. "Yes, sir. Starting quarterback."

"You lookin' to play ball professionally?" asked Burt.

Kurt knew where this was going. Responsibility and plan ahead and be realistic and blah blah _blah_.

"No,sir," his boyfriend replied. "I'm just doing it because I like it. I figured since I was going to be new at school it would be a great way to meet some people before the year began."

His father nodded approvingly and Kurt relaxed incrementally.

"Any plans for after graduation?"

"Uh," Sam started, clearly nervous. "I really like history, and I'm interested in engineering. I've been working with my dad for a while and he's been helping me look into restoration jobs. Working with historical monuments and places, things like that. So college for sure, and then just working my way up."

"Your dad, he's an engineer?" Burt asked, impressed.

"Yeah. He has his own firm," he said modestly. "My mom works for Michael Kors as well as having an interior design business."

Burt nodded, glad the boy had a reasonable head on his shoulders and what appeared to be a decent family.

During this time, Kurt's heart and stomach seemed to be locked in some kind of acrobatic battle and he felt vaguely ill and stressed throughout the entire ordeal.

His father took another large bite of mashed potatoes and looked to Sam once again. "Just what are your intentions with my son?"

Right then and there Kurt had never regretted forcing his father to watch those time period movies with him more. He never thought they would give him _ideas_ about how to interrogate his prospective suitors.

"Dad!" he shrieked.

Burt looked to him sternly. "I got a right to know what he wants with my son."

"I am _not_ some kind of Victorian maiden!" he growled.

Burt just gave he a look that said _Are you trying to tell me you aren't a maiden? You better be quiet and let me interrogate this boy_.

Sam looked panicked and unsure how to answer this question in a way to please all parties involved. Kurt was busy choking on _air_ to do much of anything now.

Burt idly patted his son on the back as he coughed and sputtered, inwardly smug that he had managed to catch both teens off guard.

"Well," Sam said, voice hesitant and a touch shaky. "It's still new, but I really like him. I guess my intentions are to be a good boyfriend and whatever else he needs me to be. Your son is amazing and he deserves the best, so I'll do _my_ best to give it to him."

Burt looked at Sam for a long moment before nodding resolutely. He popped a bit of bacon in his mouth and looked to Kurt. "This is really good, Bambi."

The slim teen smiled tightly and reached his hand under the table to take Sam's in his own, still recovering from the shock and terror of that question. Who knew seven words could do so much damage. The tall teen squeezed his had reassuringly and the released it, wanting to keep both hands visible to Mr. Hummel at all times.

Though the rest of dinner passed without incidence Kurt found his appetite completely absent. He'd been so stressed about this evening, and even though his nerves seemed to be unnecessary (mostly), his stomach was still in knots.

His dinner companions, however, more than made up for it. The slender teen had been expecting massive amounts of leftovers but was impressed and gratified to see that there was not much to be put away.

When Burt and Sam had pushed away their plates, Kurt jumped up and began to clear the table in order disguise the fact that he had hardly touched his own dinner. He set the coffee pot to brew and quickly put away the dinner he'd fixed.

Sam started to push away from the table, plate in hand, but Kurt pressed him back down with a smile. "Do you want a plate to take home?"

The blond teen beamed and nodded vigorously. "That would be great."

Burt eyed the leftovers nervously. Kurt rolled his eyes as he spooned some mashed potatoes on a take-home plate. "Don't worry; there'll be plenty for you to bring to work tomorrow."

His father averted his eyes guiltily and idly crumpled and uncrumpled his napkin. Kurt grabbed the pie Sam had brought over and placed it on a tray he had already prepared. He turned back to the table and took in the sight of his two favorite gentlemen, awkwardly silent.

"Why don't you two go out onto the back deck? I'll just finish this tray and meet you out there?" Kurt suggested (read: told).

Sam and Burt got up from the table and made their way to the backyard. When he heard the back door click shut Kurt collapsed over the sink and sighed explosively.

Sweet Versace, intentions? Intensions? Who the hell has intentions past kissing and dinner dates at seventeen?

Still, Sam's answer had been enlightening. Kurt still felt fuzzy and warm from the blonde's response along with the jumble of nerves that had been plaguing him since he woke up that morning.

He shook himself out of his reflection and poured the brewed coffee in a decorative jug and placed it on the tray along with a pie knife.

He delicately balanced the tray through the living room and onto the porch, relaxing inwardly when he saw that his father wasn't threatening Sam with a gun or wielding a chair like a lion tamer in a circus.

He smiled winningly and placed the tray on the table. "I thought we'd have the pie Sam brought over," he explained.

He passed around the cups and plates before pouring each of them a cup. He offered the knife to Sam. "Since you brought the pie, would you like to cut?"

The muscular teen blushed and took the knife shyly. He bit his lip nervously as he sliced into the wonky pie. He couldn't help but think that this was going to be some kind of test that he was going to fail no matter what he did.

If he served Kurt or Mr. Hummel first, his father may find fault with either. He sliced into the pie and wavered as he lifted the slice free of the gooey, sweet circle.

He nearly melted with relief as Kurt held a small dessert plate out to him, taking the decision out of his hands. He slid the piece of pie onto the plate and Kurt handed it to his father.

Sam looked to Kurt and gestured back and forth with the knife, silently asking him how much he wanted. Kurt bit his lip and mentally calculated calories and came up with a whopping who cares?

He smiled bashfully and nodded when Sam moved the knife to a decently sized piece. Sam smiled and then served himself, sitting back in his chair. He fixed his coffee along with Kurt and his father.

"Um," he began. "I hope it's alright. It's the first time I made the whole thing by myself. My mom supervised but I don't doubt that I managed to mess it up somehow."

Kurt kicked him lightly under the table. "Don't sell yourself short."

Burt mentally rolled his eyes at the two and took a bite of pie. He raised his eyebrows and nodded to Kurt's… boyfriend, in acknowledgement.

"S'good."

Sam smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Kurt tried a bit of his. Well, whether it was Sam or his mother's recipe, the pie was delicious and he was going to savor every fattening bite and suck it up this coming week and get himself on the damn treadmill.

"It's delicious. I'm really impressed."

"Thanks," the blond murmured, blushing.

Burt observed the two boys. Humility he liked. Humility meant manners and respect and fear and that his boy would be treated right.

He knew people changed, and that nothing was certain, but this boy seemed to be as worthy of his son as possible.

Not that _anyone_ was worthy, but better this boy than that curly-haired, smirking, cocky pretty boy he'd seen Kurt meet up with.

Not on his watch.

The small gathering finished their pie and coffee and Burt gritted his teeth and wandered back into the house to give the two teens a moment of privacy, as much as it killed him. Dinner went well and he knew Kurt had been stressed about this. He figured his son deserved a moment for himself.

Kurt stood and quickly piled the dirtied plates and cups onto the tray. Sam slowly came around the table and tentatively wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist. "This okay?"

Kurt glanced through the glass and didn't see his father lurking in the shadows. "Yeah."

He curled further into Sam's embrace and nuzzled his face under the tanned teen's chin. "How was dinner?" he asked.

"Great," Sam enthused, his voice rumbling pleasantly in his throat. "You're an amazing cook, really. "

Kurt idly wondered if Sam could feel his cheeks heating against his neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's very kind of you to say. But I meant for being so great about my dad. I promise I had no idea he was going to go all nineteenth century on you."

Sam chuckled quietly. "That's okay," he said. "Embarrassment and terror build character, or so I'm told."

"Well, then I guess we'll both have a lot of character," Kurt teased, looking into his face.

Sam leaned down and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips, rubbing his nose in an Eskimo kiss before pulling back.

From inside the house, Burt made a conspicuous amount of noise for someone just "washing his hands". The boys drew apart and smiled to each other, grateful for the brief opportunity to be alone.

Sam looked up at the night sky and grimaced in regret. He should be going…

He looked to Kurt and said as much. The slender teen nodded in understanding. "I figured; it's getting late and school starts tomorrow."

They looked at each other for another moment before they both sighed. Sam laughed and Kurt shook his head in amusement.

He took Sam's hand and led him through the door and into the kitchen where Burt was very un-subtly eavesdropping. Kurt dropped Sam's hand and retrieved his plate from the fridge.

"Sam's going to head home," Kurt explained. "School starts tomorrow and we both need to finish getting ready."

Burt nodded in acceptance. "Nice meeting you, kid. Don't be a stranger." _So I can keep an eye on you…_

Sam smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Burt nodded and led the way to the door, holding it open for the boys to come onto the porch. The teens looked to Burt as the trio stood around the threshold of the Hummel's home, shifting uncomfortably.

Sam spoke up, hoping to ease the tension. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner."

Burt stuck his hands in his pockets. "You're welcome. I should be thanking you; Kurt never lets me indulge like tonight."

The two boys smiled and looked at each other fondly before Kurt's father began speaking again.

" Imma be straight with you, kid. I'm not crazy about anyone dating my boy. As a father, it's my right to think dislike the person dating my son on principle," he explained. "But you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and I like that."

He reached out to shake Sam's hand and the teen returned the gesture. Before he could drop Mr. Hummel's hand, he tightened his grip and pulled the boy close. "But if you hurt my boy," he whispered dangerously. "I will end you. That includes getting him pregnant."

Kurt, bless his heart, clutched his heart the like maiden his father made him out to be. "Daddy!"

* * *


	16. Salutations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I made up what Tina does to Sam when she first meets him. It seemed hilarious at the time.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine :(
> 
> WARNINGS: Angst, mild violence, language, smut, boys loving each other, homophobia, etc.
> 
> * * *

Kurt sat in his tub, clutching his cup of Sleepy Time tea like a lifeline. His father was already tucked into bed. Apparently, being scolded about proper father-boyfriend interaction for over an hour made one quite sleepy.

Or he was just looking for a reason to escape.

After his father threatened to end his boyfriend _and_ talked about unplanned teenage pregnancy in a single breath, Kurt was feeling a little stressed out. He'd all but pushed Sam off their porch and urged him into his car before descending on his father in a fit of unholy fury only a teenager can muster.

Kurt had been so mad he could spit. Not that he would; talk about uncouth. Instead he yelled himself lightheaded before closing his eyes, taking a calming breath, perching delicately on the arm of the sofa, and counting to ten.

When he opened his eyes and smiled sweetly, Burt knew that this wasn't over and he'd probably come to regret his parting words to that Sam kid. He forced himself to yawn, Kurt looking decidedly unimpressed, and just shuffled to his room.

Kurt immediately snatched his phone from the kitchen and set a pot of water to boil while he did a little damage control. A sad, depressed part of him expected Sam to drop him like a hot coal after his father's convincing impression of a Mafioso, essentially threatening to have him whacked.

He checked his phone and saw that he has one message from Sam.

_Um…sorry? I didnt mean to make you and your dad fight._

Kurt threw himself into a kitchen chair and collapsed over the table. Of _course_ he heard Kurt spectacular outburst on the lawn Hell, half the neighborhood probably heard him. It's not every day (ever) that you see an unusually fashionable boy scream "PREGNANCY? REALLY?" in the front yard of Ohio suburbia.

 _OMG I am so sorry! I swear, he usually isn't like that!_ he replied.

The kettle shrieked and the slim boy poured it into the waiting mug with shaky hands. He quickly retreated into the comfort of his basement and ran a bath. He lit some candles and put on his de-stress playlist, feeling that he deserved to indulge a bit.

He quickly stripped out of his clothes slipped into the bubbles, placing the mug of tea on his bath-table, along with his phone. Kurt had done this enough that he was smart enough to have a waterproof case for his iPhone. You only needed to drop that in water once to learn that particular lesson...

As he got settled his phone beeped with a response.

_Its alright :) nothing I didn't expect._

He heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed, by some strange miracle, that Sam wasn't going to be scared off by his father's behavior.

_Should I expect the same when it's my turn to meet the parents?_

Dior, he hoped not. Sam had not one but _two_ parents to contend with, not to mention his best friend. Sure, he'd met Sam's mother and Blaine before, but they hadn't been official and things change. Kurt felt panic rise thick and overwhelming in his throat.

His phone pinged again and he hurriedly dried his hand to see.

_Probably not. Expect alot of super personal questions and the factthat my mom will prolly try to con you to go shopping with her_

Another text.

_In case you didn't notice, im a bit of a fashion disappointment_

Kurt smiled and sunk farther into the bubbles, the highest peaks brushing his upturned nose.

_I think the way you dress is adorable…_

He flushed. He never thought he'd see the day that novelty tees and cargos shorts made his heart flutter. And not just his heart…

Kurt felt scandalous. He'd never been more…excited in his life. Sure, he'd never really had that much material for excitement in his life. Porn freaked him out and the majority of the male population was either very much like his father or so painfully awkwardteenageboy _ew_ that he hadn't often even felt the desire to, well, you know.

He felt like a total cliché. Was there a gay male equivalent for _Are you there God? It's me, Margaret_ or _Little Women_? How could he find one and not be humiliated for the rest of his natural life? He vowed to scour later. Sometimes, he really loved the anonymity of the internet.

He supposed he could go to Jesse for advice, but his face flamed and his stomach dropped at the mere thought. Well, he'd just figure it out.

 _You could just ask Sam. You know, your boyfriend?_ His mind whispered treacherously.

Well, he supposed that was something to think about. For _now,_ all he wanted to think about was his bath, what he was going to wear tomorrow, and maybe his boyfriend's sweet, shy smile that just made him melt inside.

Outside too, but hopefully that was less obvious.

His phone beeped again, still in Kurt's hands.

_You're like awesome._

Kurt did a happy wriggle in the cooling water, sudsy water spilling over the edges. He pressed an impulsive kiss to the phone's screen before texting him back.

_Thanks :*)_

He placed his phone on the table and took a long sip of his tea, settling into the bubbly water for a good long soak. Once he began to prune he drained the tub, pushed the table aside, and took a quick shower since he had every intention of taking another in the morning.

He got out and dressed in his comfiest pajamas (a tee he'd nicked from his dad and a pair of filmy cotton shorts) and took his dirt cup and saucer to the sink.

He settled in bed with his computer and phone, prepared to catch up on some Facebook nonsense before calling it a night.

As he puttered around online, talking to various New Directions members, he received another, rather unexpected, text. It was from Rachel.

_I just wanted you to find out first. Jesse and I are… thinking of trying again._

Kurt's eyebrows made a valiant attempt to escape from his head and take up residence in his hairline. Drama before the school year even started. Delicious.

He finally settled on _Are you happy?_ in reply. He sincerely hoped she was. This wasn't going to stop him from calling/texting Jesse and berating him for not telling him before Rachel did, but he wanted both of his friends to be happy; and what better way to be happy than with each other?

She responded swiftly, a simple _yes :)._ He said he was glad and that was that. He'd corner her in the morning or before glee met after school for more details.

He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past 11 o'clock. While he usually went to bed much later he wanted to look well rested and more fresh-faced than ever before. He plugged in his phone and sent a final text to Sam.

_Excited to see you tomorrow :)_

He set his alarm and snuggled under the covers, waiting for Sam's response. He didn't have to wait long, his phone pinging in response before Kurt could get truly comfortable.

_Me too :D Kinda nervous though glad youll be there._

Kurt wiggled his feet, giddy with pleasure. He resolutely placed his phone on his night stand and wiggled on his plush mattress. As the slender teen drifted asleep he smiled, excited to go to McKinley High for the first time.

* * *

Sam padded downstairs, the soft nightlight on the landing illuminating the stairs. He quietly walked into the kitchen and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3:30 in the morning and Sam had been yanked from his slumber when he shifted in his sleep and punched the wall.

Now his knuckles were smarting and sleep was eluding him. He stumbled over to the fridge and took out the plate that Kurt had sent him home with, clumsily removing the cling wrap.

He placed it in the microwave and watched as it rotated, blinking blearily. The microwave dinged and the blond teen removed the piping hot plate and shuffled over to the table.

He hummed happily as he consumed dinner's leftovers, his mind slowly trucking along. He smiled as he thought of the boy that prepared the delicious midnight snack he was enjoying.

Then he remembered Burt. That man was terrifying. Then again, if Sam had a son (heck, even a daughter) that looked like Kurt, he'd be just as protective.

All things considered, he felt like the meal had been a success. Success meaning that Burt was going to let Sam date Kurt without putting up too much of a fuss

He finished the rest of his snack (mostly so that his dad couldn't) and placed his dish in the sink. He scooped up R2 from his spot on the couch and brought him up to his room.

He snuggled into the cooled nest of sheets, R2-D2 curling up in the crook of his arm. He played with his pup's tail idly, hoping the repetitive motion would lull him to sleep.

Luckily, it did just that. The muscular teen groaned as his alarm beeped at him relentlessly. He slapped his hand on the snooze button and lay in bed for a moment, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Down the hall Sam could hear a muffled _thump_ and smiled. Blaine had never been a morning person but he was definitely a punctual person. His best friend was up, but he wasn't happy about it.

The two of them had decided to carpool to school with one another. It seemed ridiculous for them both to take their cars to the same place, unless the other had plans.

His snooze alarm went off and Sam sighed before getting up. He gently set R2 outside his door and ambled on into his bathroom. He scratched his toned stomach as he flipped on the light switch.

He adjusted the faucet, gasping as the cold spray caught him in the arm. As he waited for the water to warm he brushed his teeth, leaning heavily against the sink. He took in his mostly bare body. His skin was creased from the blankets he's cocooned in and slightly pink.

He laughed at himself as he tried to find shapes in the patterns. Some things never changed. He stretched from head to toe before deciding that he had waited long enough for the water to warm up.

As he pulled down his boxers he hissed as they caught on his morning erection. Well, he _was_ going to take a shower…

He stepped behind the curtain, steam filling the enclosed area. Sam sighed as the heated spray pounded his sluggish muscles, hands idly rubbing across his upper body. He reached for his shampoo and squeezed a generous amount in his hand.

He rubbed the cleanser through his hair vigorously, working up a healthy lather. He stepped out of the direct line of spray and slowly trailed his hand down his chest, the light touch of his fingers tickling his sensitive stomach.

He let his fingers bracket either side of his cock, brushing through the close-cropped hair there. He rubbed up and down, the thick stalk of his manhood throbbing between the V of his fingers.

His other hand reached down to play with the sac underneath, fondling the globes lightly. He leaned against the cool tiled wall, the dual temperatures sending an additional zing of pleasure through him. He shivered as he began to pump his hand up and down his shaft, slow and firm.

He bit his lip to stifle his groan, paranoid about the enhanced acoustics of the bathroom. The last thing he needed was for his family to hear him rubbing one out on his first day of school.

He threw his head back, sighing at the unrelenting pressure of his fist. He abruptly released his balls and grabbed onto the in-shower towel rack, needing something un-bruisable to hold onto. His grip on the plastic rod tightened unmercifully as he began to pump into his fist furiously.

Though the shower was running all Sam could hear was the pounding throb of his heart and rapid "hunh hunh hunh" of his gasping breath.

His muscles tightened unbearably, making Sam whine low in his throat before that blissful _snap_ , his orgasm hitting him like a slap.

He pressed his cheek into the tile as his breath returned to normal, little aftershocks of pleasure making his limbs shaky. He quickly shut his eyes as he felt the first sting of the forgotten shampoo.

"Shit," he cursed, mourning the loss of his afterglow. He stepped into the cascade of water and rinsed the soap from his hair before reaching for his conditioner (for color treated hair).

The rest of his shower passed in a blur, the teen anxious to get to campus. And Kurt, definitely Kurt.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about how the school year was going to affect his relationship. Most teenagers were crude and just plain mean, and being in a small town with equally small-minded people was bound to be a trial.

Should he let Kurt make the first move at school? Should he? Was a kiss too much, or should he just stick with a hug? These thoughts did nothing for his nerves so he resolved to brush them aside.

Well, at least until after he got dressed.

He looked at the clothes he had laid out on his desk chair the night before. Blaine had helped him sift through his rapidly increasing wardrobe, looking for the perfect back to school outfit. Blaine had his picked out for well over a week.

He loved his friend, but sometimes he needed to chill.

He fastened a pair of khaki cargo shorts around his waist with a woven leather belt. What? Cargo shorts were comfy and he _totally_ rocked that look. He slid on a white undershirt and a light blue v-neck on top. He rolled up the sleeves so the white of the undershirt showed around the edges.

Socks and those navy boat shoes he'd noticed Kurt admiring were next. He figured if Kurt liked them, they were probably a safe bet.

He sighed massively before opening his door and making his way down to the kitchen. Despite his midnight snack, Sam was famished.

His mom was clearly in the kitchen since the blond teen could smell sausage and bacon and pancakes. He smiled as he stepped into the kitchen and spotted his mother at the stove, busily poking at the eggs she was cooking.

He walked over and kissed his mother on the cheek in greeting. "Morning, Mama."

She turned and beamed at him as he took his place at the table. "Good morning, honey. Why don't you start on breakfast?" she implored. "These eggs'll be done in a second."

As Sam was serving himself a mountain of pancakes, Blaine walked into the kitchen and took in the massive spread of food. "Woah, other mother. Are we expecting people for breakfast?"

Patricia just smiled and shook her head. "Of course not, sweetie. Just wanted to make you boys a special breakfast for your first day at a new school."

"And try out the new griddle," Sam said slyly.

"Hush," his mother said, grinning guiltily.

Blaine shrugged and dug in with fervor. His mother brought over the eggs and sat down to join them. "Are you boys excited?"

They both gave an all encompassing sigh meaning _yes_ and _oh, God, no_ and then _so, so much_.

Mrs. Evans merely hummed in acknowledgment and smiled maternally. She was a mother; she had ways of knowing things.

As they ate, his mother focused her attention on him. "How was your dinner last night? I didn't get a chance to ask you."

Sam froze, fork full of pancakes halfway to his mouth. He lowered his hand as he the familiar squirming in his chest. He had yet to determine if it was due to the anxiety of meeting Kurt's father (officially) or the warm-fuzzies from Kurt cooking some of his favorite food.

"Um, it was good," he replied. And then Blaine had to spoil it all by laughing so hard he choked.

His mother patted Blaine on the back concernedly, looking to Sam for elaboration.

"There may have been talks of unplanned pregnancy. And what would happen to me if his son ended up in the family way."

He felt some satisfaction was his mom snorted in her coffee, but that's neither here nor there.

"Well," Patricia replies, at a loss. And then "Will we be seeing him this Friday?"

"Uh, yeah. Kurt told me that would be alright."

His mom beamed and he could tell she was already planning the menu for this Friday evening. She turned her attention to Blaine. "Are you thinking of doing any kind of club or activity this year?"

His friend nodded and smiled. "Sam mentioned that they have a glee club, like the Warblers. I'm definitely going to try out."

Patricia reached over and patted his hand affectionately. "You're amazing, honey. They'll love you," a silent _or else_ hanging between them.

Both boys finished eating within moments of each other, his mother scooping up their dishes and urging them out the door with kisses to their cheeks and homemade lunches.

They opted to take Blaine's car, being both less ostentatious and more conducive to things like gym bags and backpacks.

The drive to McKinley was mostly silent, both boys' nerves kicking into overdrive. Sam frantically went over his mental checklist. Backpack: check. Lunch: check. Phone: check. (Hair: check)

He was glad he didn't have practice today; the first day of school was stressful enough without having to worry about football as well.

And he was still worried about Kurt. Well, not worried about him _per se_ , but worried how he was supposed to act. Like, what if he acted differently that Kurt expected, then what? And what about his _friends_?

He was sure that everyone in New Directions knew by now. It was on Facebook, c'mon. He didn't really know a lot about Kurt's friends except that they were all in glee club and that he should never look Santana directly in the eye. Apparently she could sense fear, or something.

Way too freaking soon they were pulling into McKinley and the rest of their high school careers. The two friends just sat in the car for a moment, glancing at each other.

"Well," Blaine said. "Um, I guess we should go in."

"Uh-huh," he replies, uncertain. He took out his phone and sent Kurt a quick text while his friend waved and made his way towards a mohawked boy sitting on the bed of his truck.

_Please tell me youre here_

He doesn't want to be clingy and weird and spastic but, well…

Sam literally jumped when he heard "Yeah, I am" come from right behind him. He spun around and saw Kurt, a startled expression on his face.

Sam rushed to apologize. "Sorry sorry!"

Kurt's expression softened and he smiled at the blond teen. "That's alright."

Sam took a hesitant half-step towards Kurt, glancing around to see if there were any hostile looks (Karofsky) as of yet. Everyone seemed to be going about their business, too nervous/excited to take notice of anyone else.

He bit his lip and held his arms open to the other boy, giving Kurt the choice. The pale boy looked around worriedly for a moment before blushing to the roots of his hair and hugging Sam tightly, pressing up on his tippy toes.

Sam smiled into Kurt's (perfect) hair. He bussed him on the temple before letting him go. "Was that okay?" He asked quietly.

Kurt's blush intensified and nodded shyly. "Yeah," he whispered. He cleared his throat and tossed his head back, some of his natural grace returning to him. "So, where's you locker?"

Sam hissed in panic and patted his pockets furiously. After checking each pocket three times he finally found the letter he'd been sent by the school folded up neatly in his wallet. You know, so he wouldn't lose it and remember where it was.

"Iiiiit's 98. Wanna point me in the right direction?" he asked.

The slim teen nodded and jerked his head towards the doors. "Sure, it's on the way to mine. And, uh, near Tina's."

Sam's stomach immediately dropped into his stomach. Oh, God. He was going to have to see Kurt's friend, like, every morning. What if he made a terrible first impression? What if they broke up (please please no), it would be so awkward.

"Don't worry," Kurt soothed. "Her appearance is misleading; she's really a sweetheart."

_Wait, what? That doesn't sound promising…_

Sam suddenly realized that Kurt wasn't next to him. He looked around frantically and spotted him stand about three steps behind him, smirking."Shush," Sam said as he trudged back, cheeks hot.

"But I didn't say anything," he chimed innocently.

Before he could reach Kurt and tiny, yet intimidating, mass of leather and lace stepped in front of him, her gaze speculative. And didn't say anything.

She. Just. Stared.

Kurt quickly came up behind her and tried to pull her to look at him. "Tina! What are you doing?"

"Quiet, Kurt. I read online, that if you stare at a guy for long enough, you can totally tell what kind of personality they have by how often they blink. If he's a jerk, I'll know."

Kurt looked closer and closer to an apoplectic fit so Sam decided to just go with his instincts. "Uh, hi, I'm Sam," he said, tentatively extending his hand.

Without glancing down from his eyes and grasped his hand in a startlingly tight grip, staring into his face unwaveringly. "Tina," she replied. She dropped his hand and her gaze and looked back at Kurt, smiling sweetly. "He passed."

She walked around them and went to her locker, two short metal cubbies away.

"Was that…good?" Sam asked, looking to Kurt for confirmation.

"Oh, very," he said. "Tina can be a little eccentric. I know for a fact she read a lot of paranormal, mind controly type things this summer. Her grandma is supposedly some kind of mystic and wants to pass it along or something."

Sam exhaled in relief. _One down…_

Kurt gestured towards his locker with a well-manicured hand. "Do you actually need to get in here or did you just need help finding it?"

"Just needed to find it."

 _Must. Resist. Urge. To kiss. h_ e commanded firmly. Hugging was great but he didn't think they were ready for a kissing yet. Sam was pretty sure there would be some kind of sign, like Kurt sighing all wistfully and collapsing into his arms.

Okay, maybe that was more of a fantasy…

He shook his head and focused on Kurt. He was glad they had gotten to school so early. He had at least another half an hour with his boyfriend before classes started.

As if sensing his thoughts, Kurt asked "What classes do you have?" while he lead them to his own locker.

The blond teen pulled out his list and checked even though he'd been staring at it for the better part of three days. He had a hard time remembering in high-stress situations, okay?

"AP History first," he declared, nearly preening as Kurt looked at him appreciatively.

"Wow, you really _do_ like history."

He nodded and rubbed the back of his head, smiling softly. Kurt flushed prettily and continued on, eyes firmly locked on the mass of teenagers in front of him. "And then?"

"Then English, with Mrs. O'Leary—"

"Oh, me too!" Kurt interrupted before blushing sheepishly. "Sorry."

Sam just shrugged, charmed. "Then French III, Algebra with Mr. Patrick, and, um, Family and Consumer Science?" he said, confused.

Kurt laughed, clear and melodic. "Home Ec," he explained. "We have Home Ec together, too. But go on."

"Awesome," he breathed. "Anyway, fifth period I have Anatomy and Physiology with Ms. Green and I finish with Biology. With Mrs. Tartan." He made a face. "Ew, two sciences."

Then they were at Kurt's locker, Sam looking around for any rogue New Directions members waiting to pop up and question his intentions. But way worse than Kurt's dad, since friends didn't really feel the need to be subtle and could (would) defend their friend far more viciously than a parent. Adults didn't usually hit children.

Sometimes, high school was terrifying. Forget Freddy or Jason or Aliens or anything like that. High school was a bigger nightmare than what was lurking on Elm Street.

"Well, we also have Bio together." Kurt suddenly looked shy. "Wanna be my lab partner?"

Sam immediately nodded enthusiastically. What kind of question was that?

"I should warn you," Kurt said cautiously. "I'm a terrible lab partner. Dissections really freak me out and I don't like to handle chemicals."

Sam just shrugged. "I don't mind."

Before they could get any further they found their path to be blocked by none other than Mercedes Jones. She instantly enveloped Kurt in a massive hug, pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek causing him to shriek about her plum lip gloss all over his face.

The dark girl smiled, looking pleased with herself. She turned her intimidating gaze on Sam. Her smile was sweet but her eyes were dangerous.

"Hi," Sam said, ignoring the fact that his voice sounded shakily. "I'm Sam. You must be Mercedes. Kurt's mentioned you a lot."

There, that was traditional (cliché) and polite… please work.

Mercedes looked to Kurt's anxious face and then back to his before smiling for real. She leaned in close, Kurt following, creating an impromptu huddle. "Listen, blondie; I want to like you. Kurt's clearly crazy about you and you're as fine as the day is long. But if you hurt him Imma bring the pain. We clear?"

"Totally," Sam said, cowed, while Kurt just growled "MERCEDES!".

She grabbed her things out of her locker and closed it, her demeanor sweet as honey. As she swept passed them she gave Sam a pat on the arm and sauntered off to her first class.

He looked to Kurt. "Well, that wasn't so bad."

Kurt facial expression said otherwise. "How is any of this _not so bad_? Everyone that has met you has threatened to hurt you!"

"Hey," he crooned. "It just means they really care about you. I'm more worried about you meeting Wes and David; they're chomping at the bit to meet you. And my mom is probably going to ask you tons of awkwardly personal questions while my dad tries to decide whether or not to give me the talk _again._ "

Before Kurt could respond they were interrupted again. They only had fifteen minutes left! Couldn't they see Sam was trying to find a conveniently empty alcove where he could kiss his boyfriend without fear of jock smack-down?

"Rachel," Kurt said warningly.

She brushed off the countertenor's admonition. "Relax, Kurt," she said before turning her mega-watt smile on Sam. "Hi, I'm Rachel. It's so nice to finally meet you."

She extended her hand and he took it gratefully. "Sam," he replied.

"I just wanted to introduce myself. Feel free to sit next to me if we have class together." She grimaced self-depreciatingly. "No one ever does, so there should be free seats.

"Thanks, I will," he rushed to reassure her.

She smiled winningly before bidding them goodbye and power walking away.

He looked to Kurt, confused. "Are your classes really small?"

The pale teen worried his lip between his teen. "Not really…"

"Then why—"

"Glee," Kurt responded, cutting him off. "No one really wants to be around us. It's like, social suicide."

"That's not—I don't…" Sam trailed off. He didn't really know what he was trying to say. "I like you guys, even if Tina and Mercedes were kinda scary…"

The fair teen gave him a watery smile. "Thanks."

The student population in the hallways was starting to thin and Sam risked getting a little closer. "I really wanna kiss you…" he admitted.

"I do too," Kurt whispered.

Sam looked around and saw that most of their peers were already in their classes. He glanced back to Kurt and his eyes zoomed in on his lips, slightly red and swollen from being chewed on all morning.

He leaned forward slowly and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips before pulling back and swiping a thumb over the same spot. (Rubbing it in, _duh_.)

"Think you can find your class?" Kurt asked breathlessly.

He looked around and realized his class was just at the end of the hall. "Yeah,"

Kurt walked away from his slowly, backwards. "See you in an hour."

Sam nodded and turned to go to his own class. He wouldn't look back. He _wouldn't_. Except he totally did, smiling bashfully when he noticed Kurt doing the same.

He walked into class and noticed it was made of a bunch of two-person tables. He spotted one against the far wall that was empty and made his way over to it, placing his generic green backpack on the table and taking out a pen and a notebook he had already designated for this class.

As he waited for class to start a mass his eyes were caught by a pair of wheels with flashing LED lights. Uh, _awesome_. He looked above the wheels and saw what he assumed was Kurt's friend Artie.

He had a kind smile and a shy air about him. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

"Not at all," Sam replied, pulling back the spare chair and pushing it under the table behind them.

Artie maneuvered himself into place and took out his own notebook with a bright argyle print. Sam glanced at the clock and noticed they had about five minutes before class. Before he could think of something to say the other boy filled the void.

"Are you into history or did you get put in here by chance?"

"I love it, actually," he said.

"Me too. I'm Artie," he replied, holding his hand out for yet another handshake.

"Sam."

Artie nodded, still smiling. "So," he began. "You and Kurt?"

"Yeah," he said hesitantly, bracing himself for another threat.

"That's great," Artie said earnestly. "He deserves to be happy. I haven't seen a lot of him lately but I can tell. Just… be careful, yeah? People here can be stupid."

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

A middle-aged man by the name of Dr. Gaven cleared his throat at the front of the class. "Welcome to AP History…"

* * *

The rest of Sam's day passed quickly. The blond teen was glad he had some classes with Kurt and the two spent the entire time writing notes to one another.

He had run-ins with the rest of Kurt's New Directions friends. He thought it was kind of awesome how Kurt was friends with so many different kinds of people.

He met Quinn in his Algebra class. He was glad he didn't say anything to her before she introduced herself when the first day of class lecture was over because from the way she stared at him the entire time, vacant yet confused, he was under the impression it was Kurt's friend Brittany.

He didn't meet Brittany until he had Home Ec. The tables were set up much like his history class but they seated four. Kurt had taken a seat next to Tina and a few moments later a blonde girl wearing a Russian-style fur hat and leg warmers on her arms sat next to him.

 _This_ must be Brittany. Kurt leaned forward over the table and caught her eye. "Hey, Brit."

She smiled back happily. "Hi, Kurt! Your skin looks like baby powder today."

Apparently, that was a good thing because his boyfriend smiled in return and thanked her. "This is Sam," he introduced.

"Hi," he said.

She looked at him and her face clouded with confusion. "He doesn't look like a trout at all."

_O…kay._

The other members of the table looked around at each other, perplexed, until Brittany spoke up again. "Santana said she saw your boyfriend in the halls and that he had a trouty mouth. He doesn't look like a fish; he looks really hot."

"Oh," said Tina and Kurt chimed.

"That explains it," Tina deadpanned.

Sam slowly brought his had up to pat his lips self-consciously. The slim teen next to him intercepted his hand and pulled it away, holding it under the table. "You _don't_ have a trouty mouth. She's just jealous."

When Sam continued to look baffled continued. "Your mouth," he clarified. "I know for a fact that she'd kill for lips like yours."

"She would," Brittany said solemnly.

_Well._

Home Ec, Family and Consumer Science, whatever, turned out to be awesome. He couldn't believe he was going to get graded for making cup cakes and omelets for an entire _year_. He hoped Blaine had this class too.

He was a bit disappointed he didn't have more classes with his best friend. They were in French together, which was good, since maybe he could convince Kurt to help the both of them since he was taking AP French. They _were_ in Anatomy and Physiology together as well as the same lunch, so at least there was that.

Finally, the first day of classes ended and he had met all of Kurt's friends but Santana. He spotted Blaine standing in the hallway near the announcement board, signing his name on what Sam assumed was the New Directions auditions list.

Kurt was waving goodbye to Rachel (she needed to go prepare for the first day of glee, apparently) and Sam was waiting for him in the hallway when he finally had his run-in with Santana.

She stepped in front of him, smirking with a wicked gleam in her eye. Sam panicked and looked down, averting his gaze, and wanted to _slap_ himself. It's not like she was Medusa! But still, he stood there for a long moment like he was, in fact, turned to stone.

Finally, his manners took over and he looked back to the girl and smiled tentatively. "Hi?" he said like a question.

"Hel _lo_ ," she breathed.

"Uh," he said intelligently.

She laughed, a smoky sound that made Sam shiver, and _not_ in a good way, and flipped her ponytail. "And _where_ did Kurt find you?"

"Football camp," he said dumbly. Before he could humiliate himself further Kurt appeared at his side.

"Santana," he said with false brightness. "I see you've already met Sam. My boyfriend. That's dating me. A boy."

The Latina girl cackled before tapping Kurt's upturned nose with a fire-engine red nail. "Cool it, Lady Lips. Just window shopping." And then she flounced away, texting on her Blackberry.

"Harpy," Kurt muttered.

Sam looked at Kurt, still a little baffled by their meeting with Santana.

"Sorry," he sighed. "Santana just hasn't really grasped the concept of personal boundaries. If she sees something she wants, be it people or a designer bag or a solo, she has a way of just _swooping_ in to take it. Or at least try and make everyone one else miserable and angry in the process."

Sam raised his eyebrows in shock. Maybe she _was_ Medusa…

"Sorry again," the slim teen said. "That was unfair of me. She isn't all bad, it's just a sore spot."

The blond shrugged. "S'okay."

"Thanks," he replied. "So, what are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?"

"I haven't seen my gran in a while so I promised I'd go over for dinner tonight. She lives about an hour away so I'm going to start heading out that way."

"How are you so perfect, Sam Evans?" he wondered aloud. "I guess I'll be calling my Aunt Maggie after glee. It's been too long since I've been over to dinner."

He followed Kurt to his locker, leaning against the others while Kurt grabbed what he needed for the night. The school was clearing out quickly and Sam was glad for it. He'd like the opportunity to kiss his boyfriend.

"Walk with me to glee?" Kurt asked.

"Of course."

The two ambled to the choir room, tension thrumming between them. Kurt walked into the empty room and placed his bag on a chair at the end of the first row.

They looked around, stand across from each other awkwardly. Kurt glanced at the clock and noticed that was about 20 minutes before glee officially started and said as much.

"Sooooo," Sam said, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around Kurt's slim trim waist.

"So," the other teen parroted.

"Mind if I kiss you?"

Before Kurt could finish shaking his head Sam was pressing pouty lips against his. The slender teen immediately wrapped his arms around Sam's broad shoulders, fingers digging into the defined muscles. He made a happy sound into the other teen's mouth, feeling Sam smiled against his lips.

He pulled back and pressed forward again, catching Kurt's lower lip between his own and suckling gently. He felt one of Kurt's hand thread through his hair, fingers kneading his scalp gently. He hummed appreciatively and held the slim boy close.

As Sam went to deepen the kiss they heard a very familiar voice yell "Dude!" behind them. the two teens broke apart to find none other than Finn Hudson staring at them in shock.

But Finn wasn't alone. Rachel and Mr. Shue were both at the piano, trying and failing not to stare at the young couple. Rachel was just being a creeper, Mr. Shue was trying to decide if he should know the blond kid kissing the groups countertenor.

Then Finn opened his mouth again. "What are you doing?"

Sam could tell Kurt was moments away from exploding at the insensitive teen so he tried to settle things with minimal fuss. "Sorry, man. We didn't hear anyone come in."

And that was the truth. Although Sam didn't think that they should have to hide their relationship, and a kiss here or there was okay, PDA was a touchy subject to some people. He wasn't a fan of making out in front of an audience himself, but he knew that wasn't the real problem here.

Finn just kind of scoffed and made a disgruntled face. Rachel, her back to Finn, slapper he sheet music down and whirled on the gangly teen. She huffed and punched Finn in the arm once. Then again as she stormed out of the room.

The tall teen looked wounded and confused before trudging over to a seat and throwing himself into it with the grace of a three year old, pouting just as childishly.

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked to Sam. His expression softened as he stood on his tip toes and pecked him on the cheek. "Talk to you later?"

"Of course," Sam replied, tone soft. "I'll text you when I get home from dinner since I have quite the ways to go."

"Alright then," Kurt said definitively. "Now go. Skedaddle." He made a shooing motion with his hands and the blond teen chuckled as he walked out of the room.

He spotted Rachel seething near a water fountain. He stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, he said.

She looked at him and gave him and grudging smile. "Thanks for giving me a reason."

That startled a genuine laugh out of him, Rachel responding in kind. "I better go back," she said, waving as she walked to the choir room.

He waved in return and made his way to the car. Blaine wasn't there yet so he just used his valet key to open the trunk and toss his bag in. His curly haired friend showed up a moment later looking ruffled and pleased.

That was as far as he was going to think about that. "Ready to go have dinner with Grandma Caldwell?" he asked.

"You know it."

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur for Kurt. The closer Friday got, the more anxious he became. After school ended he pressed a quick kiss to Sam's reassuring smile and sped home to get ready. He opted to skip glee club in order to be home before anyone else and have time to make his guesting gift.

He had been scouring the internet and every cookbook he owned for the perfect dessert to make. He wanted to show off a bit but he wanted to make something that would go with whatever Sam's mother was making.

He hadn't wanted to ask Sam because he thought that was kind of crass, but he wouldn't deny that it would have made his life a lot easier.

He wandered into his kitchen and sighed deeply. He'd take care of this before taking the most important shower of his life, to date.

He'd decided to make a layered angel food cake with a strawberry jam filling and a lemon glaze. It was light and fruity so it was the perfect summer dessert. And if Sam got his taste in food from his family, he was going to be _need_ that light dessert.

Sam's taste in food was not waist-line friendly.

He started on the batter, combining the dry ingredients and setting them aside. He grabbed his favorite whisk (his mother's) and got to work separating a dozen egg whites from their yolky companions.

It would be faster for him to use the electric mixer to beat the egg whites to stiff peaks but he stood firm by his opinion that you could taste when someone really put effort into what they were making. So, time to whisk.

He quickly finished whipping the eggs and combined all the ingredients. The pale teen briefly contemplated separating the cake before backing but he risked overcooking the entire thing so he poured it into a Bundt pan with straight sides. None of that fancy dome business for a layer cake.

He gently slid the pan into the oven and ran downstairs for a quick shower. He had thirty-five minutes, and while Kurt loved to shower, that was plenty of time for him to shower and moisturize. Getting dressed was another matter entirely.

He tossed his clothes in their designated piles (darks, lights, and dry clean only) and stepped into the shower. He scrubbed his skin until it tingled and sighed in pleasure. Even thought he had avoided being slushied this week, school still made him feel so _gross_.

He took his time washing his hair, running his fingers through the silky strands and making sure to rinse out every bit of conditioner. He looked into the un-fogable mirror he placed in the shower and decided his skin was fabulous enough to skip a second apricot scrub.

He finishes quickly, not wanting to linger and let the cake burn in case he slipped into some time wormhole and it had already been thirty-five minutes. You know, just in case.

He got out and swathed himself in a comfortable robe, wrapping a towel around his head like a turban. He patted the moisture off his face and sat at his vanity after he had been assured that he did still, in fact, have twenty minutes before his cake was done.

His hands moved methodically, instinctively knowing where each bottle lay. He exhaled peacefully as the delicately fragrant lotions and toners did their magic. He completed his routine and smiled at his reflection.

_Perfection._

He decided to hold off on getting dressed until he had finished making the layer cake. It would be just his luck that he would cover himself in strawberry jam and ruin careful hours of outfit planning and Skypeing with Mercedes, Rachel, _and_ Tina.

He slid on some nude colored boxer briefs and a pair of grey cotton shorts with a red tee. He flitted up the stairs with five minutes to spare so he decided to get the filling and glaze ingredients ready. He poured and generous amount of powdered sugar into a mixing bowl and added some lemon juice and water, whisking to combine.

He took a taste and smacked his lips at the citrusy tang. Yum. He set it to the side and slipped on his oven mitts right as the oven timer rang out. He grabbed the light golden cake and set it aside to cool for a moment.

Usually the cake had to cool before you could ice it, but Kurt was counting on the heat to help the glaze and strawberry filling/sauce drizzle over the cake. He took out the largest sauce pan he had and tossed in two pints of strawberries that he had cut last night. He'd let them soak in some sugar and a bit of rum, nicked form his father's stash (with permission, of course).

He added a bit more sugar and some orange zest then let the mixture simmer away, stirring attentively. Kurt hated cooking with hot sugar. He was always scared it was going to get on his skin and burn the heck out of him. He lowered the heat while he carefully removed the cake from its pan.

It had cooled enough to be handled so Kurt swiftly cut through it to create three layers .He snagged a small ladle and gently spooned the strawberry mixture onto the layers, building the cake. He drizzled the remaining liquid over the top of the cake, then the glaze.

He smiled, admiring his creation for a moment before cautiously transferring it to a decorative cake stand. Kurt was already busy praying to any deity that would listen for the safe transportation of his dessert, keeping the sugary confection _and_ antique cake stand intact.

He nodded in satisfaction and headed back downstairs to get ready. As he opened the door he heard his phone chime and he hastened down the steps.

A text. From Sam.

_Cant wait til 7_

Kurt smiled as he read the text. While he was, quite frankly, terrified of meeting his family, he was excited to see him out of school. Having a summer relationship, even if it was only a few weeks, had spoiled him.

Since it was Friday, his father had relaxed his curfew. Kurt also suspected it was a kind of belated apology for going all caveman-daddy on Sam. Kurt hoped that he could maybe get a tour of the garden he'd heard tell about before he had to head home.

He'd been curious about this garden since Sam had brought him flowers that day they visited his mother. From the array of lilies Kurt assumed that it was pretty impressive.

_Me too. Kinda nervous but looking forward to seeing you :)_

He placed his phone on his bed and walked over to his computer. He sat down and did a quick Facebook check before loading up iTunes and selecting his playlist of classical music. Beethoven's _Fur Elise_ wafted out of the speakers and Kurt sighed in appreciation.

He crossed his legs and rested his cheek on the hand not controlling the mouse. He looked at the time in the corner of his screen and noticed it was just past five. He stretched lazily and relished in the fact that he had plenty of time to get ready before her was expected.

He pushed himself out of his sinfully comfy desk chair and wandered into his closet. His preapproved meet-the-parents outfit was hanging in the back, pressed and perfect. He ran his fingers down the crisp yet soft fabric and smiled.

The right outfit could make anything better. Kurt knew the power of a good cardigan and matching brooch.

While he hadn't wanted to ask what his mother was making he had no such compulsions about appropriate attire. When asked, Sam kind of stared at him in confusion before saying "Whatever you want. You always look good".

While that was flattering it was maddeningly unhelpful so he had enlisted the help of his girlfriends and given them quite the fashion show.

He eventually settled on a pair of charcoal grey skinny jeans, this pair merely fitted rather than skin tight. He paired it with the palest mint green shirt; a delicate v-neck affair. He pulled on a cream cardigan with pretty pearlescent buttons.

He slid a thin, white belt through the loops and smiled in satisfaction when he noticed how loose it was. It's not like he needed the belt to hold up his pants, they were tight enough to do that on their own.

He strolled back to his vanity and took a seat, running a comb through his hair with practiced motions while he used a blow dryer in his other hand. Due to the short length it only took him mere moments before he was finished.

He spritzed some hairspray to set it before reaching for his Chanel perfume. He'd worn it earlier in the week and Sam had commented on how nice he smelled, unknowingly gaining major points with the slender teen.

He looked at the clock and noticed that it had just turned six and decided he could leave now and not appear to be crazy-neurotic because he arrived thirty minutes early. He wrestled his feet into his white leather slip-ons and grabbed his phone before turning off all his electronics and lights and heading upstairs.

He grabbed his keys and satchel (Mercedes called it a purse but she wore rainbow zebra leggings so her opinion was often compromised) and fled to the car.

He turned around and rain back inside when he realized he forgot his dessert. He glared at the offending confection before carefully carrying it to the car and placing it on the floor of the passenger seat. He wedged it up with his satchel and watched warily.

He looked at it imploringly. "Please, don't fall down. You'll ruin everything, and not just dinner. My bag, my car, everything. I need you so Sam's parents fall in love with me, okay?"

He stared at the cake for a moment before nodded and starting up his car. He grabbed his phone and texted Sam, letting him know he was on his way before bucking up and making his way to Sam's lovely home.

He took a calming breath and focused on the road. He made the trip in silence, nerves bubbling up inside him. This was going to be the most stress-filled car ride of his life.

* * *

Sam was pretty sure he was going to throw up. His mom had been cooking since he left for school this morning and his father couldn't look at him without breaking into a wicked grin. He was always nervous when he brought his significant others to dinner, but this time was the worst.

First of all, Sam cared for Kurt far more than he had ever cared for any of his previous partners. And second, Kurt was the first _boy_ he'd ever brought to dinner. Well, officially.

There was that time with Gordon, but he was supposed to be just a "friend". Yeah, apparently that was really transparent, what with all the leering Gordon had done.

This morning was bad enough. Sam had gone downstairs to have a quick breakfast and when he'd come back upstairs _someone_ had put a strip of condoms on his bed. Which, okay, yeah, being safe was great, but it was a _little_ soon to be thinking about sex.

Well, that and he'd already had some stashed in his band aid box in his nightstand. The tiny bottle of KY had been a little excessive and so far no one has fessed up to it but Sam had his suspicions. His father looked far too smug to just be enjoying the nerves he felt over Kurt coming to dinner.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and his heart pounded furiously when he read it and discovered Kurt was on his way. He checked the time and noticed that it was nearly 6:30. He exhaled massively before patting his hair once more and heading downstairs.

His hair was still a bit damp from his late shower and his cologne was making him feel even more jittery. He usually just went for the spray but he figured that this was a pretty special occasion and that Kurt would probably appreciate it. And his mother.

He was wearing a pair of light denim jean, fitted with a cuff on the bottom. Blaine had convinced him to wear a pale yellow shirt under a white-and-blue plaid button up. He rebelled against convention and left it open, if only to infuriate his mother.

Small victories.

He walked into the kitchen and just took a moment to breathe in his mother's cooking. Patricia had decided to take a page out of Julia Child's book and go with the traditional crowd pleaser, beef bourguignon.

She'd been making it since morning so the meat even _looked_ tender. Mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a really fancy salad were laid out on the counter. His mother was putting some fresh rolls into a bread basket and covering them with a cloth.

She turned around to see her son standing there, looking nervous but happy. "Relax, honey. I've never seen you like this before," she crooned. Sam shrugged listlessly but she knew her son. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's _wrong_ ," he mumbled. "I just… really like him and I want this to be perfect."

She set down the rolls and enveloped her son warm hug. "It will be," she assured. "I've already had a word with your father. He's just looking at you that way because he knows it gets to you. You know he would never embarrass you on front of someone so important."

 _The first time_ she thought ruefully. She loved Robert but sometimes he didn't understand there was a time and place for fooling around.

"Now, is outside okay? Or do you think he'd prefer to eat inside?" she asked.

"I think outside will be great," he replied. "I just put the fan on. Kurt will probably wear long sleeves." Sam relished in the fact that he already knew Kurt well enough to make such an assumption and have a ninety percent chance of being correct.

Patricia nodded and turned to rummage in pantry. She emerged with a large, circular vase, more like a bowl and perfect for a low-lying centerpiece. She rinsed it and passed it to Sam. "Why don't you go grab a few flowers to put on the table?"

He took the glass container from his mother with a nod. He needed something to preoccupy him until Kurt got here and this was the perfect thing. Blaine was busy getting ready or he would go talk to him.

He knew that if he really wanted to he could interrupt his friend but he had a feeling that Blaine needed to be alone right now. His dark haired friend had said that he was okay with his, well, whatever he had with Puck, but Sam suspected that Blaine wasn't as okay as he'd like to seem.

He hoped that this worked out for his friend. He really didn't want to have to beat up his newest friend and one of his few allies on the field. And even though Sam was built for combat, he'd really rather not fight. Gentle giant, that's what Elaine had called him.

He walked around the side of his house and into the garden, glancing over to admire the new vegetable and fruit pasture (or whatever). It was coming along nicely and things were just starting to sprout.

He finally made it to the majority of the flowers and surveyed the blossoms. He didn't know much about decorating but he knew enough to pick a flower that didn't have a really strong scent when they were eating.

He padded through the sleeping flowers and over to the vine of flowers against the far fence. The aptly named moonflower vine bloomed at night and looked amazing. The soft, flimsy petals were about the size of _Kurt's_ palm and had a very subtle aroma.

They were white with the palest of green around the center and color reached out in the pattern of a star. Sam loved them. He remembered the first time he saw these night blooming buds and was amazed at the unique flowers.

He gently picked the blossoms from the vine, making sure to check for insects. Once he had a good bunch arranged he turned on his heel and made his way to the house.

His timing was perfect. As he rounded the side he saw Kurt stepping out of his Navigator, carefully balancing what Sam assumed was dessert. Sam had been thinking about what Kurt as going to make for days, the memory of that delicious dinner still on his tongue.

He made sure his footsteps were audible, grass crinkling under his feet. Kurt heard his approach and turned to face him, smiling when he saw the flowers Sam had in his hand. "Hey."

"Hi," Sam breathed and leaned forward for a kiss. They were both bent at the waist protecting their respective bundles. They pulled back, laughing.

"Those are really pretty. I've been trying to get some kind of night blooming flower but it's hard to find seeds or cuttings," Kurt explained.

Sam smiled widely. "I've always loved these. When I was little I thought it was so cool they bloomed at night. It thought they were, like, mutant flowers."

Kurt chuckled around his "aww" and looked around Sam to peer into the darkness. He bit his lip as the two contoured towards the muscular teen's home. "Maybe I could get a tour of this garden later?"

Sam nodded happily. "I think I could arrange that."

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly and nudged him with his elbow. "Lead the way, you."

Sam jumped ahead and climbed the stairs quickly and paused before opening the door. He glanced down at the flowers and realized something.

He turned around and gave Kurt affectionate kiss on the cheek. "You look great. You and the flowers match."

Kurt reflexively looked down at himself and then the flowers. "Oh, we do!"

Sam placed one more silly, smacking kiss on Kurt's forehead before spinning and opening the door. He was greeted by the sight of his mother scurrying to the front door, ripping off her apron and throwing it into the receiving room so that it landed out of view. She came to sudden halt and smiled welcomingly, the picture of calm.

Kurt spoke up first, voice slightly shaking with nerves. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner, M—Patricia."

"We're happy to have you, dear," she assured. "And you brought dessert, how sweet! I'll just take that and put it in the kitchen."

She carefully took the cake from Kurt and looked to her son. "Sammy, why don't you take those flowers outside and show Kurt to the table? Your father and Blaine are around here somewhere…"

And with that she turned and breezed into the kitchen. Sam gestured with his head towards the sliding glass doors and led the slim teen to the veranda.

"Well," Kurt said, hushed. "This is already going better than when you came over."

Sam looked back at Kurt and shook his head. "Oh, stop. It wasn't bad at all." Sam figured lying this one time couldn't hurt…

The blond stepped onto the cooling veranda and placed the flowers in the middle of the table, pleased with his work. He noticed his father and Blaine standing off to the side, watching some kind of sports through the window.

Sam motioned for Kurt to follow him as he approached them. He stopped short, the slender boy behind him, and cleared his throat loudly.

The two men started, looking at Sam's unimpressed form sheepishly. Caught.

Blaine spoke up, always quick to recover. "Hi, Kurt!" He darted forward and gave him a one-armed hug. The other boy responded in kind, relaxing infinitesimally.

Sam glared at his father while he waited for his turn to greet the boy. Robert just rolled his eyes and smiled at the smaller boy. "Glad you could make it tonight, Kurt."

"Thank you, sir," he replied mildly, shaking Mr. Evans outstretched hand.

Before more awkward conversation could be had Patricia walked onto the veranda with the _pièce de résistance_ , the beef bourguignon. "Dinner's ready!" she said cheerily.

They took their places around the table, Kurt placed between Sam and Blaine. The fair boy relaxed further, happy to have a barrier between him and Sam's parents.

Not that he _really_ thought they would do anything, but still, the distance was comforting. The small group served themselves and Kurt was impressed with the amount of preparation that went into the dinner he was enjoying. He felt… kind of important. It was nice.

"You're an amazing cook," he said to Sam's mother. "This is wonderful."

Patricia beamed and thanked him, urging him to eat as much as he'd like. The boy looked like he could stand to gain a stone or so.

"So," she began. "I know that you didn't try out for the football team, but do you do any kinds of sports or activities?" She knew a bit about him from Sam had told her but she'd like to hear what Kurt had to say. That and break the silence.

"Oh, um, well I used to be on the cheer squad but the coach is a little… intense." That was putting it mildly. "I'm not sure if I'll try out again. Other than that, just glee club."

Patricia brightened and smiled at Blaine happily. Kurt turned to the curly haired boy and looked at him slyly. "By the way, don't worry so much about auditioning. I've heard you sing and you're great. Auditioning is really just a formality, anyway."

Blaine nearly wilted with relief. "Really?"

"Oh, absolutely," Kurt assured. "It'll be nice to have a male lead that can, you know, lead. Well, unofficial lead, since we're all supposed to have a fair shot…" Kurt's tone belied the truth of that statement.

Blaine frowned a little in confusion. "Who sings lead, then?"

"Finn."

Blaine looked disappointed while Sam just looked annoyed. Finn Hudson was really getting on his nerves.

Sensing the undercurrent of tension at the other teen's name, Robert decided to add something to the conversation. "Do you have a lot of family in Ohio?"

The slender boy went quiet and Sam's father immediately realized he's made a mistake. "In a sense," he began. "Um, well my mother died when I was younger but her side of the family pretty much… stopped talking to us after she passed. And my dad's side of the family won't acknowledge us. They, uh, don't like that I'm gay and that my dad didn't try to, ah, fix me."

He shrugged and gave a weak smile. "So it's just me and my dad and my Aunt Maggie. She's actually just a close family friend, but she's all I've ever really had. Well, now that my dad got engaged there's Carole and Finn, too."

Patricia was torn between wanting to glare at her husband and rush around the table to give the poor boy a hug. Sam reached under the table and took Kurt's hand. He hadn't known the extent of Kurt's family's estrangement.

The fair boy turned to look at Sam and smiled reassuringly. He wouldn't deny that it hurt, but he had his father and his aunt and that was all he ever needed after his mom passed. Why waste time with people you don't really and truly love?

Robert just stared at his plate and decided only to speak when spoken to. He'd rather not make another social blunder, thank you very much.

Patricia decided to be brave and ask after his father's upcoming nuptials. "Are you excited about your father's engagement?"

Kurt smiled and decided to reply with honesty. "I don't know. Carole is a wonderful woman, and she makes my father happy, but it's just… so different." And then there was Finn to consider. He shook himself and smiled at Mrs. Evans politely. No need to burden them all with his problems.

Sam's mom just nodded sagely and took a dainty bite of salad. Feeling the conversation had dwelt on serious topics enough she moved on. "I love your cardigan! I know this little shop…"

The rest of dinner passed without incident and Kurt found himself alone with Sam's father as Mrs. Evans had employed the help of Blaine and Sam to clear the dinner dishes and get ready for dessert.

The formidable man looked to Sam's guest somberly. "I apologize for my question during dinner. I hadn't meant to bring up something so sensitive."

Kurt smiled warmly and shook his head. "It's alright. There was no way you could have known."

Robert was upset that this boy was so used to having people just toss him aside. From what he had gleaned from dinner and the few times he had heard Sam opening up, the boy had a hard time of it. He never understood how people could be so careless and it truly bothered him that he was so thoughtless during dinner.

He focused his gaze on Kurt's lithe form. "You seem like a mature, well adjusted young man. It's a relief to see my son with someone like you."

Kurt's heart pounded happily, surprised at such praise. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I never thought I'd meet someone like Sam. Not in Ohio."

Sam stepped back onto the veranda carrying a tray with coffee and cream and sugar while Blaine brought back dessert plates and utensils. They set down their burdens and took their seats once more. Sam looked like a little kid.

"I'm really excited to eat your dessert. I love strawberries!"

Kurt flushed and murmured his thanks. The way Sam was looking at him confirmed the fact that the blond teen was remembering their first lunch together, when they had shared a pint of the juicy red fruit, just as Kurt had when he planned this dessert.

Patricia came out onto the patio, his cake in one hand and a pretty bowl in the other, filled with fresh whipped cream. "I hope you don't mind! I had some sitting in the fridge from breakfast."

"Not at all," Kurt replied. "I was going to make some myself but I was worried about transporting it all."

Mrs. Evans smiled and, much to Kurt's relief, began to serve dessert. He was certain his decision to have Sam serve dessert at his house was going to come back to haunt him.

He poured himself a cup of coffee when the carafe made its way to him and adding a bit of sugar and drop of milk. He watched as Sam put at least five teaspoons of sugar into is coffee and manfully repressed his shiver.

Patricia served him first, giving him a generous portion of the angel food cake and healthy dollop of whipped cream. Kurt smiled in thanks but was inwardly groaning. He vowed to wake up early tomorrow and do some extra yoga. He'd been meaning to try some new poses anyway.

He waited until everyone had been served before taking a bit of dessert .It was delicious, if he did say so himself. The boys dug in, their silence saying more than words ever could. Kurt insides wriggled in pleasure.

Sam's mom turned to him, beaming. "This is wonderful! You said you made this yourself?"

Kurt nodded, trying to affect an air of modesty even thought he was proud as punch. "Yes, it's one of my dad's favorites."

"Do you enjoy cooking?"

Kurt swallowed the bite he was chewing before responding. Talking with your mouth open was _not_ charming. "I do, actually. A lot. Everyone kind of assumes I'm going to go into theatre or fashion but I really just want to go to pastry school," he admitted.

Sam stopped stuffing his face long enough to look at him and smile, sweet as pie (or cake, as it was). "Pretty sure you'll graduate top of your class."

Kurt felt his cheeks heat and he took a bit of pie to hide his embarrassment. Dessert was filled with idle chitchat and the clinking of spoons in coffee cups and forks on plates.

When he rose to help Patricia bring in the plates she pressed him back down before looking at her husband significantly. Robert stood and helped his wife clear the table, stopping to say he was glad to have met him. Patricia pressed her cheek to his and smacked her lips in a kiss, not wanting to get lipstick all over his face.

Kurt sighed in relief and took a long sip of his coffee. Blaine's phone went off and he looked at the other two teens in apology. "Do you mind if I…?"

The fair teen shook his head while Sam urged his friend to take the call. The dark haired boy waved and mouthed "Thanks for dessert!" before he scurried inside to have his private conversation.

Sam chuckled and looked to Kurt. "Pretty sure that was Puck."

 _Well_. Kurt thought. _It takes all kinds, I suppose_.

"Still up for looking at the garden?" he asked. He looked at his watch and noticed it was nearly ten.

Kurt nodded enthusiastically and stood up from the table. Sam took his hand and led him to the far end of the veranda, taking a spiral staircase the slim teen hadn't noticed down to their pool area. They crossed to the other side and exited the screen door leading to the side of the house.

Sam looked at his boyfriend as he spoke. "It's not like, a fancy, like, legit garden like in mansions or whatever. There's no real rhyme or reason, just making sure that plants won't kill each other and stuff."

"It's lovely," Kurt replied, looking at the slumbering blossoms. They passed the vine of moonflowers and Kurt stopped to smell the understated blossoms. "I wish I was more… gardening inclined? I tried to grow some herbs and failed miserably."

Sam chuckled happily and Kurt scoffed, playfully pushing him. The blond teen pretended to be knocked over by Kurt's clearly Herculean strength and collapsed onto the floor. He latched onto the slender boy's ankle as he went to nudge him with his toe and tugged lightly, pleading.

Kurt sighed and lowered himself to the ground, stretching out next to him and cuddling into his chest against the nighttime breeze. The two teens remained silent, staring up and the sky and listening to the sounds of the garden at night.

The fair teen inhaled the scent of Sam's subtle cologne and the flowers all around them. He closed his eyes and nuzzled closer, head tucked under Sam's chin. The blond teen's strong arms came around him and rubbed up and down his side and back.

The two boys were content to lie in the garden for quite some time but nature had some different ideas. As Kurt relaxed into Sam's embrace he felt and light touch to his cheek. He smiled until logic kicked in and he realized both of the muscular teen's hands were around his waist.

He gasped and exploded into a sitting position, hands brushing at his face and hair wildly. He calmed and shivered in disgust, phantom bug syndrome making him want to flail around to prevent anything else from landing on him.

Sam was trying to cover his laughter (poorly) and wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders and tugged him close. He sniggered and pressed a kiss to the pale boy's mussed up hair. "Whatever it was is gone," he assured.

He pressed a hand to his chest and inhaled deeply. "Sorry," he whispered. "Bugs freak me out."

Sam pressed his nose to the nape of his neck and nuzzled affectionately. "I'll remember that. I've been meaning to install some bug lamps out here, guess I just have a reason to do it now."

Kurt turned around and buried his face in Sam's chest. They remained that way for a moment before the slim teen pulled back reluctantly. "I should be getting back. My dad said I didn't have to be home until midnight but I don't want to push it."

The tanned teen nodded in understanding and stood, holding his hand out to assist Kurt up. The two teens walked over to the Lincoln Navigator parked in his driveway and Sam pressed the slender boy against it, bumping their foreheads together. "Want to go to the movies tomorrow?" Sam asked.

Kurt nodded, nuzzling his nose against the other boy's in the process. "But nothing scary!" he qualified. Sam chortled and closed the distance between their mouths.

He nibbled his bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside to lick the taste of coffee and strawberries from his mouth. Kurt's hands clutched his middle, Sam's own arms wrapped around the boy's slim shoulders.

He deepened the kiss, Kurt yielding to him and making a soft noise of pleasure. He slid a thigh between the other boy's legs and kissed down the pale expanse of his throat. He suckled lightly on the hollow of his throat, mindful not to leave a hickey.

Sam felt himself stiffen in his jeans and sighed, pressing one last kiss to Kurt's lips before putting some distance between them. As much as he wanted to take it further they were standing in his driveway with his _entire_ family just yards away. He had a little more class that that.

He smiled at the expression of muzzy relaxation on Kurt's face. "I should let you go," Sam whispered.

"Uh-huh," Kurt replied, not moving.

Sam sighed and removed his arms from around Kurt, enabling the boy to straighten up and open the door to SUV. The small teen hopped in and closed the door, lowering the window as he buckled his seatbelt. "Will you bring me the cake stand tomorrow?"

Sam nodded, vowing to place an alarm in his phone. "Sure thing."

Kurt leaned out the window and pressed one last kiss to Sam's cheek before staring up the car. "Bye," he said unenthusiastically.

Sam waved and watched him back down his driveway before turning and bounding up the steps, taking his parents eavesdropping through the curtains by surprise. "Again? Really?"

* * *

The remainder of the weekend passed far too quickly for Kurt. He went to the movies with this boyfriend and they compromised and saw one of the final blockbusters of the summer. They both enjoyed the matinee since the theatre was virtually empty and they were able to kiss during the boring parts (for Sam) and the too violent parts (for Kurt).

Sam had dutifully brought him the sake stand in the exact same condition he left. Well, except he cleaned it, so not _exact_. They went to an early dinner and then Sam dropped Kurt off at home, both having homework they need to complete and would never accomplish in one another's presence.

Monday breezed by, Kurt having to bid Sam adieu for the evening due to football practice. Even though it seriously cut into their time together he wouldn't pretend that he didn't get a little thrill of excitement when he thought about the fact that _he_ was dating the star quarterback.

On Tuesday Kurt sat in his AP French class, desperately trying to stay awake. The ancient woman teaching the class wasn't so much teaching them French as gushing about the various aspects of French food.

Normally, this captivated Kurt, but today his mind was elsewhere. Like in his basement with Sam…

When Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Shue walked into his classroom he wasn't surprised. Yesterday he had worn a kilt to school and it had ruffled more than a few feathers. Aside from reprimanding Tina for her clothes during Twilight Fever, Figgins sent the guidance counselor to… counsel students who were deemed as inappropriately dressed.

He dutifully followed them into Ms. P's office and sat in one of her immaculate chairs. When neither Mr. Shue nor the snappily dressed ginger sat Kurt began to get uneasy. "What?" he finally asked.

"Kurt," Mr. Shue began. His voice seemed to fail him and he looked towards Emma for help. She perched on the desk on front of him.

"Kurt," she repeated. "Your father's had a heart attack."


	17. A Work of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry! I really hate writing cliffhangers but I had no other choice! Honestly! The chapter was getting quite long and it had already been two weeks between updates.
> 
> I just want to remind everyone I believe in happy endings, so just keep that in mind, 'kay? Also, I am basing Burt and Kurt's experience in the hospital on my own experience with my grandfather having a heart attack. I am not a medical professional but I have tried to do a bit of research so that it can sound as legit as possible :P
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like it! This chapter is dedicated to **Hi miss Alice** for leaving me an amazing review that warmed my heart ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: Le sigh. Not mine.
> 
> WARNINGS: angst, language, homophobia, boys loving other boys, underage drinking, etc.

Kurt had always looked down upon individuals that solved their problems with drugs or alcohol. Now, more than ever, he understood why some people turned to illicit substances. He almost wished he'd saved the last of the wine that alchy April Rhodes had snuck him.

He'd been sitting in the waiting room with Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury for hours and had heard not one single word about his father. The more minutes that ticked by, the more sick he felt.

This couldn't be happening. He'd already lost his mother, wasn't that enough? He's paced the area in front of the low-lying table so often that he had a marked a path in black scuff marks and for once Kurt didn't care about the effect it had on his clothes. Kurt didn't think he'd ever be able to wear this outfit again.

Which sucked because he really liked these shoes.

As he turned on his heel to pace in the opposite direction his toe caught on the floor and he fell to the ground. His tumble went unnoticed by the two adults busy arguing in the hallway and that was just fine with him.

He crossed his legs and pulled them to his chest, resting his head on his knees. This was too much. He scooted backwards until his back hit a chair. He let his head fall back onto the chair and stared at the ceiling, watching a bit of spider web, or maybe dust, billow on the corner of the air conditioner vent.

There was a pressurized _whoosh_ followed by frantic footsteps before someone called his name. His head felt like it was made of iron as he tried to lift it to see who was looking for him.

Suddenly, a pair of jean clad legs appeared in front of him. "Kurt…" they repeated. He finally looked up (and up) and found himself staring at Finn.

"Finn," he croaked, frowning at the sound of his voice.

The tall teen lurched downward and sat next to Kurt on the floor. The two teens remained silent for a moment before Finn spoke up. "I'm sorry, man."

As much as he wanted to snap at the other teen to relieve some of the tension he felt, he couldn't bring himself to do it. As much as Finn annoyed him, this wasn't his fault. He'd lost his own father, even though he was too young to remember.

"Thanks," Kurt whispered.

Finn hesitantly reached out and patted Kurt on the shoulder before putting his hands in his lap. Mr. Schue noticed Finn's presence and came over. "Finn, what are you doing here? School doesn't end for another two hours."

The tall teen looked at Mr. Schue solemnly. "This is more important."

"Finn—"

"He's going to be my stepdad," he interrupted resolutely.

Emma placed a restraining hand on Will's shoulder. "Family comes first," she said softly, recognizing the need and opportunity for the two boys to reconcile. Finn smiled at her while she pressed Mr. Schuester into a chair as their wait continued.

Kurt shook his head, stressed beyond belief. "Why are you really here?"

"Our parents are engaged. We're… going to be family. And I've been like, the worst almost-brother ever."

Under normal circumstance Kurt would have assured Finn otherwise but, well, A) he kinda was, and B) these weren't normal circumstances. He wasn't really concerned with comforting others right now.

It appeared the tall teen had reached his emotional discussion quota for the day because the two boys continued to sit in silence, ignoring the tearful sniffles coming from the other.

After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor finally approached them. Kurt shot to his feet and felt a fine tremor begin to go through his body. This was it.

Before the doctor could open his mouth Kurt began to feel chilled though he was sweating. The edges of his vision started to white out and he felt as if he were underwater, everything muffled and slow.

And then suddenly Kurt was in a chair with no memory of getting there. Finn and Co. were huddled around him, the doctor crouching in front of him, shining a light in his eyes.

"Wh—" he tried.

Seeing his confusion, the doctor quickly took control of the situation. "Kurt, my name is Dr. Cuore, I'm the doctor in charge of your father's health. It appears that you've fainted."

"Fainted?" Kurt managed.

"Yes. Has this happened to you before?" the doctor asked.

"No, never."

Dr. Cuore nodded and made a notation on a small pad. "This isn't uncommon. High stress and lack of food has caused many family members to react in a similar fashion. I suggest you get some rest and a snack and you'll be back to rights"

The adults and Finn nodded, agreeing with the doctor. "My dad?" he asked weakly.

Dr. Cuore sat next to him and looked at him seriously. "You're father suffered a serious heart attack. It's very lucky that he wasn't alone when the attack started or things would be considerably more serious. We were able to stabilize him with relative ease but we're still concerned and are going to keep him for observation for a few days."

Kurt swallowed and nodded woodenly, waiting for him to continue.

"He's in a medically induced coma for the moment. We had to perform an angioplasty to repair the blocked coronary arteries."

For a moment Kurt felt a tidal wave of blind rage. His dad and his god damn eating habits. How could he do this to him?

Then Kurt calmed down and grasped how unreasonable he was being. "Is he going to be alright?" he choked out.

"I won't lie; your father is very lucky to be alive. But he is and he seems to be responding to treatment wonderfully. If all goes well, he should be able to come home in a few days."

The fair teen was weak with relief. _Thank you, Jesus_ he thought, just in case. One can never be too sure, and Kurt didn't really care what saved his father, medicine or something more divine, so long as he was alright.

"He's going to need to make a lot of changes; eating healthier and exercising more."

"Not a problem," Kurt said determinedly. If his father thought he was crazy about nutrition before, he hadn't seen _anything_ yet. Prepare for the Nutrition Nazi. The slim teen vowed to rip the house apart in search of secret junk food stashes. "When can I see him?"

The doctor looked at his watch before focusing on Kurt. "He should be taken of the medicine keeping him comatose in a few minutes, and then the nursing staff needs to see to his needs, but after that you are welcome to see him as long as you don't strain him."

"Thank you," muttered tearfully, shaking his hand before Dr. Cuore disappeared behind the swinging doors, down the hall where his father rested.

A thought came to him. He turned to Finn. "Where's Carole?"

"She got called in for a shift in Cridersville and got stuck in traffic. She called me and told me. I came as quick as I could."

"Thanks," he muttered.

This new, kinder Finn was a relief but Kurt was nowhere near forgiving him for all the heartache he'd caused. And he wasn't the only person that deserved an apology.

The group sat in silence and listened as the minutes ticked by, the sound of the clock growing louder in Kurt's ears.

He heard the pressurized _whoosh_ again, heralding another visitor. Carole was upon them instantly. Her hair was a mess and she had a barely repressed look of wildness about her. The slender teen felt terrible for not thinking to call her as soon as he'd heard from the doctor.

Her first words were "Kurt, honey, are you okay?" and he collapsed into her arms once she was in reach. He didn't cry, he'd do that later in the privacy of his own room, but he held onto her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

"Shh," she muttured against his ear. "Shh." Mother's seem to say that a lot.

He pulled back and she lowered her head, trying to catch his eye. He nodded distractedly, letting her know he was fine. For now.

"What's going on?" she finally asked.

When Kurt couldn't make himself speak, Mr. Schue relayed the information Dr. Cuore had given them. She thanked the other two adults for waiting with Kurt and Finn and then they disappeared, leaving the small almost-family alone.

Carole sighed and turned to face her boys. "Finn," she said. "It's going to be a while before we can see Burt. Why don't you go see if you can rustle us up some coffee?"

The tall teen opened his mouth to protest but whatever was in his mother's gaze compelled him to nod awkwardly and lumber off in search of hospital coffee.

She sat on the seat next to him and took his hand, resting them on his lap. "How are you really, honey?"

"Not good," he whispered.

He gently caressed the side of his face with her free hand and cooed to him softly. "Everything is going to be fine."

He wanted to argue with her and tell her how _not_ fine everything was going to be but something in her voice sounded so certain that he just wanted to listen and for once have blind faith in something, _anything._

A few moments later Finn reappeared with three (terrible) cups of coffee that they all clutched desperately despite not drinking. A nurse startled them out of their thoughts. "Hi, I'm Mary," she said kindly. "Mr. Hummel is well enough for visitors now. He's asleep, so you must be quiet. Please, follow me."

Kurt decided right then and there, despite any careers troubles or indecision, he could never work in the medical profession. He didn't have the fortitude to smile in the face of so much hurt and sickness like this Mary.

The trio followed the tiny nurse down a quiet (eerie) hallway and passed various rooms filled with beeps and muted televisions until they reached the room that held his father.

Mary held open the door and gestured they all go in before following. His father, a formidable man, looked so small on the hospital bed that Kurt was taken aback. How could this be the same man that had playfully tossed him over his shoulder when he saw the kilt he intended to wear to school yesterday morning?

He slowly made his way to his father's bedside and tentatively took his hand in his own. "Daddy…"

* * *

Sam was hella worried. Kurt hadn't shown up to English, only second period and their first class together, when he had seen him less than an hour ago. By the time lunch rolled around he realized Finn, Mr. Schue _and_ the red headed guidance counselor were missing as well.

He had tried texting Kurt but hadn't received any answer and his shameless snooping had revealed nothing. No one in New Directions had any clue as to the two missing teens' whereabouts and Sam was starting to panic.

He was at home, sitting in his room, staring at his phone and willing it to ring. So far he'd been unsuccessful and it was already six o'clock.

Blaine knocked and peeked in. "Anything?"

"No," Sam said flatly.

"I'm sure there's a really good reason he hasn't called."

"That's what I'm worried about…" the blond teen murmured.

Blaine frowned thoughtfully before taking a seat next to him on his bed. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. It just doesn't bode well that _Finn_ was gone too. I know they haven't been getting along but their parents did just get engaged…"

"Right," Blaine said, trying to be supportive. "Your mom wanted me to tell you that she's making apple pie."

 _Apple pie_ Sam thought. _My mom must be really worried to pull out the big guns_.

Patricia Evans rarely made such elaborate desserts during the week, claiming that saving it for the weekend made it more special. Sam knew that his recent stay in his room was the cause of this impromptu rule breaking.

His musings were interrupted by _Fools Rush In_ , Kurt's ringtone. It was in that Marie Antoinette movie they had watched and Sam had thought the song was really appropriate. Blaine slipped into the bathroom to give Sam a little privacy.

He rushed to pick up the phone but tried not to convey that anxiety when he answered. "Hello?"

There was a long pause, Kurt finally responding as Sam was about to repeat himself. "Hey."

Sam frowned. Kurt sounded…upset. Like, really upset. Before Sam could ask what was wrong the other boy continued talking. "Sorry I missed your texts and stuff. I forgot my phone in the car."

"That's okay," he said absently. "Is… everything alright?"

The blond distinctly heard Kurt sniffle and stifle a whimper. "No..." he said, voice small and thick with tears.

"Hey," Sam replied. "What's going on? You can tell me."

There was the sound of more sniffling and then Kurt a clatter as he put the phone down to blow his nose. "Sorry," he said as he picked it up again.

"Don't worry about it."

He heard Kurt take a deep, shuddery breath before speaking. "It's my dad," he said simply. "He had a heart attack."

Sam's entire thought process boiled down to one word: _Shit_.

"I—I'm so sorry," he said lamely, wincing as he did. Kurt did want apologies or condolences; he wanted his dad. "Where are you?"

"Home," he said miserably. "I just—I couldn't…"

"Are you alone?"

"For now," Kurt replied. "I think Finn went back to their house, to think about his dad. Carole had to stay at the hospital to fill out some paperwork, call some people. I just… couldn't be there anymore."

"Do you… want some company?" Sam asked hesitantly. He really didn't like Kurt being alone right now but if that's what he really wanted Sam would respect that. Probably. Maybe. He hoped so.

"Yeah," Kurt said, voice weak. "Please."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be over as soon as I can." Kurt merely sniffled and hung up.

Blaine poked his head out of the bathroom sheepishly. Sam looked at his friend with an unreadable expression on his face. "Kurt's dad had a heart attack."

The smaller teen sunk down into Sam's desk chair. "Oh my gosh."

"Yeah."

"Is he alright?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know. I'm going to go over there."

Blaine nodded and shooed him with his hands. "Your mom is in the kitchen," he said helpfully. "Go. I hope everything is all right. Text me?"

Sam nodded affirmatively before slipping out of his room, phone and keys in hand, and flying to the kitchen.

Patricia looked up at her son's sudden appearance. "Sammy?"

"Kurt's dad had a heart attack." Sam really wanted to stop saying that.

"Honey…"

"He's home right now. Can I go over?" he asked. Well, he wasn't really asking. He'd go regardless of his mother's answer. Luckily, he didn't have to resort to blatant disobedience.

"Of course," his mother replied. She pulled him forward for a kiss before letting him go.

She turned to the counter and reached for her cookbook. This called for some major cooking. That poor boy was going to need all the help he could get this week and if she could provide a hot meal and give him one less thing to think about then, so help her, she would.

* * *

Kurt sat in his kitchen and stared at the wood grain pattern on the table. He'd come to the realization that this table was factory made because, while the material looked natural and genuine, no wood had such an amazingly symmetrical pattern.

He'd made himself a cup of tea out of habit but it sat untouched next to his elbow, long since cooled. He lifted his hand to idly trace the swirls and dips of the wood pattern with his index finger. He closed his eyes and still managed to trace the outline, having long since committed it to memory.

He nearly sobbed in relief as he heard a gentle knock on the door. _Sam_. Thank goodness.

He levered himself out of his seat and he moved cautiously to the front door. The only light he bothered turning on was the one above the kitchen table which did very little to illuminate the hallway.

He flicked the switch for the porch light and opened the door with shaking hands. Sam stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bundle of wildflowers.

Kurt laughed tearfully as he let Sam in. He turned to the other boy and took the flowers from him and sniffed them reflexively even though his nose was too clogged to smell anything. "Thanks," he said, his voice just a squeak.

Sam nodded before taking the flowers out of his hands and placing them on the entrance table. He pulled Kurt close without a word and just held him.

Kurt's breath hitched and he clutched the blond boy hopelessly. He felt hot tears slip out of his eyes no matter how hard he willed them away. He buried his face in Sam's strong shoulder and just held on for dear life.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked.

Kurt shrugged. He did but then he didn't. He wanted to share his feelings but at the same time he just wanted to let it go. "The doctors think he'll be alright," he whispered. "But that he was lucky that he wasn't alone when it happened, because it was so serious."

Sam merely nodded, not sure how to respond. Maybe he should have Googled, like, "how to be sympathetic without sounding like and asshole" or something.

He pulled back and made Kurt look up into his face. He looked pale and drawn. Dark pronounced circles were under his eyes and his skin looked clammy. "Why don't you sit down and I'll find something to put those in?" he asked, gesturing at the flowers.

The truth was that he wasn't so sure that Kurt was going to be standing under his own power for much longer and he didn't think his pride would allow him to be carried. He deposited the slim teen in a chair and looked around for something to place the flowers he'd brought in.

"In the living room," Kurt chimed.

Sam nodded and flicked on the hall light, softly padding into the darkened room. He spotted a thin vase and pulled it from the shelf carefully. He made his way back in the kitchen and rinsed it out, making sure no dust would be left inside.

He placed the flowers into the vase, idly arranging them before turning to Kurt and looking at him questioningly. "On the table," Kurt said quietly.

Sam placed them there and just looked at Kurt for a moment. He was staring and the blossoms with a sad smile on his face. He looked physically ill.

Sam bit his lip before speaking, trying to choose his words wisely. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you alright? You look like you're going to be sick," he asked gently.

The blond teen gently pressed the back of his hand to Kurt's forehead and frowned when he felt cool and clammy.

The slim teen shook his head in the negative. "I fainted," he admitted.

"Have you eaten anything?" Sam asked in concern.

Kurt made a negative sound, resting his head in his hand. He looked dead on his feet. Well, in his chair. Sam slid into the seat next to him and rubbed a hand up and down his back.

He could feel the tension in his small form and leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Do you want to come home with me?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment before nodded as enthusiastically as his pounding headache would allow. "Yeah."

Sam brushed Kurt's lank bangs away from his face and caught his eye. "Why don't you go downstairs and get some clothes and I'll call my mom and let her know our plans?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose…"

"You're not," Sam said immediately. "Go on."

Kurt nodded and slowly made his way to his room. Sam listened for a moment before pulling out his phone and quickly dialing his mother. She answered before the second ring finished. " _Hello?_ "

"Hey, Mom."

" _Is everything alright, honey?"_

"Um, is it alright if Kurt comes over tonight? Finn is staying at his mom's house and Carole had to stay at the hospital to take care of some things—"

" _Of course he can,_ " Patricia interrupted. And then, gentler " _How is he?_ "

"Um, not good," he admitted in a whisper. "He said he fainted and he looks, like, sick."

" _Well, you just bring him over here and we'll fix him right up_."

"'Kay. See you in a bit."

He hung up with his mother and tentatively made his way over to Kurt's room. He knocked on the open door before slowly descending the steps.

Kurt was sluggishly folding a shirt and placing it on a small pile of already folded clothes. Next to it was what looked like a makeup case that Sam guessed was filled with travel sized moisturizers and such.

He grabbed his cell phone charger and wrapped the cord around the plug and shoved it in a cloth bag. He placed his clothes and makeup case in the bag and looked around his room, checking to make sure he'd remembered everything.

"Toothbrush?" Sam asked.

Kurt slapped a hand to his head and grimaced in pain. "Hey," Sam said, gently pulling the offending extremity and cradling it to his chest. "I think you're allowed to be a bit forgetful today, of all days."

Kurt nodded and smiled tearfully.

"Besides," Sam continued. "I pretty much have a spare _everything_. It might not be what you're used to, but I have anything you can think of. Wes and David forget _something_ every time they come over so I have a ton of travel sized stuff under my sink and in my closet."

Kurt untangled himself from Sam with a more genuine smile and disappeared into his bathroom. He came back with a toothbrush and a contact case.

"You wear contacts?" he asked. He almost kicked himself at the stupid question. _Obviously_ he thought. _He's got a contact case._

Kurt merely nodded shyly and shoved them inside his bag before reaching into his desk drawer and doing the same with a glasses case.

He slender teen heaved a sigh and looked to Sam. "I think I'm ready."

Sam nodded and scooped up Kurt's bags before he could say anything, making his way up the stairs. He waited at the top for the tired boy to make his way up the steps. Kurt turned off the light.

Sam waited and watched as the other boy slowly shut off lights and various electronic devices. When Kurt appeared in front of Sam, finished, the two teens made their way out of the house, locking the door behind them.

"Carol has a key," he explained. "If she comes home tonight."

Sam opened the door for Kurt and stowed his bags in the trunk. He got in the driver's seat and looked to him as he adjusted the A/C and radio. "Do you need to tell anyone where you're going?"

Kurt looked thoughtful before he pulled out his phone. I guess I should tell Carole, in case she comes and notices I'm not there."

He sent her a quick text before collapsing back into the supple leather seat and closing his eyes. Kurt forced them open and blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Sam suggested.

"No," he said determinedly. "Not yet."

The blond teen wanted to push the issue but he remained silent. For now. There wasn't much conversation as they made their way to Sam's house. The blond risked being berated for unsafe driving but he held onto Kurt's hand firmly, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

They arrived at Sam's house before long, the blond teen retrieving Kurt's bags and taking his hand again. He led the pale(er than usual) teen into the kitchen and ran into his mother.

Patricia took one look at the forlorn boy before enveloping him in a motherly hug. She pulled back and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead before wiping off the lipstick mark she had left. He cupped his palm with one hand and pointed and the round table in the corner of the kitchen.

"Why don't you take a seat, sweetheart? I made you a little something to eat."

Kurt nodded woodenly and gingerly sat down. He would have protested, the thought of eating making his stomach rebel, but he felt ominously lightheaded again and really didn't want to faint in front of Sam and his family.

"Be right back," Sam said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder before jogging upstairs and placing his overnight bags in his room. He didn't want to assume anything so he would ask Kurt where he'd like to stay after he had a bit of food in him.

He also wanted to ask the boy if he was feeling well enough to go to school tomorrow but he had a feeling that his mother was going to ask that as soon as she'd seen to his health but perhaps not; she was unusually subdued.

He walked back into the kitchen to see his mother placing a bowl of soup and some toast in front of Kurt with a glass of water. He smiled gratefully and began eating slowly. Patricia added a small bowl of fruit salad and sat across the table from him.

Sam took his place in front of a second bowl of soup (his mom liked to feed people, okay?) and followed suit. Kurt was relieved that he wasn't served something heavy; he would have eaten whatever she put in front of him regardless of what it was because he was polite like that.

As he slowly filled up on soup and bread he felt the tremors in his limbs taper off and the lightheadedness and nausea dissipate. Thank goodness. Kurt thought it was far too early in this relationship for Sam to see him throw up.

He began to pick at the fruit and tried to smile at Sam's mother. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "I feel much better."

Mrs. Evans smiled sweetly before she reached across the table and took his hand. "Do you?"

Kurt bit his lip and shrugged with one shoulder. "Yeah." Physically, he felt worlds better. Emotionally, not so much.

Patricia nodded and didn't push. She had been blessed enough that her parents were alive and well so she couldn't imagine what this poor boy was going through. To have already lost one parents at this age was bad enough. To lose both was unthinkable.

She didn't want to think of what Kurt would go through if Burt Hummel didn't pull through. She cleared both boys' plates and looked back as she rinsed the dished. "Why don't you take a quick shower and get comfortable, honey?"

Kurt nodded. A shower sounded wonderful. He could feel the hospital all over him and it made him itchy and depressed. He slowly pushed away from the table and looked to Sam.

"Oh," the blond teen replied bashfully. "I put your stuff in my room, I hope that's alright."

Kurt smiled as reassuringly as he could and slowly made his way upstairs and into Sam's room. Less than a minute alter Blaine appeared, eyes worried. "Hey,"

Sam responded with a little wave before his friend and his mother took their place around the table. "How is Kurt's father?" His mom asked.

Sam told them all he knew which, admittedly, wasn't much. Just that he was alive and stable and appeared to be responding well to treatment. Blaine nodded grimly and shared a look with his friend. He hoped that students at McKinley would be sympathetic to Kurt's situation.

Unlikely.

Patricia got up from the table and kissed both of her children on the forehead. "I'm going to head to bed. Tell Kurt I hope he feels better and to sleep well."

Sam nodded and stared at his mother retreating form. He knew she'd stay up to make sure that Kurt was attended to herself if she didn't have an early morning flight to New York to discuss the new line.

His father was already there, negotiating a business contract where he would then meet up with his mother and stay at the apartment they had purchased for such occasions.

The two teens got up from the kitchen table and made their way to the sitting room next to it. Blaine took the armchair while Sam made himself comfortable on the loveseat.

"Is Kurt going to school tomorrow?" Blaine asked.

"Dunno," he replied. "I haven't had the chance to ask him. Can't decide what would be better."

Blaine hummed affirmatively and focused on the coffee table. "Do you know if he's told anyone else?"

"No," Sam said. "He didn't mention it but I don't think he has."

"Understandable. New Directions has been really great but I don't think they would have let him have a moment's peace. They mean well but…"

"Right."

The two teens looked up when they heard a door opening on the second floor. Sure enough, Kurt slowly came down the steps, skin reddened from the heat of the shower. His hair was clearly towel dried and stuck up in all directions. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a black tee instead of his pajamas but Kurt wasn't one to let people see him in lounge clothes, even on a day like this.

Sam thought he looked adorable but figured this was not the moment for praising his physical traits. The fair boy spotted them and Sam patted the space beside him. As he drew closer he noticed a pair of delicate silver frames resting on his upturned nose and firmly quashed the tendril of lust that coiled in his belly.

Kurt arranged himself on the loveseat delicately, looking smaller than usual. Blaine met the boy's eyes and gave him a tentative smile. "Sorry about your dad," he said simply.

"Thanks," he responded.

Sam tentatively wrapped his arm around the other boy and relayed his mother's message. He smiled and laid his head on Sam's shoulder, breathing deeply and contentedly.

Blaine looked at the clock and frowned. It was a little past eight and he had neglected his homework over the weekend to spend time with Wes, David, and Sam. "As long as you don't mind, I'm going to head upstairs and get started on some homework."

Then the couple found themselves alone in the living room. Sam looked at Kurt's tired from and jostled him slightly. "Are you feeling up to going to school tomorrow? Or do you need to call off?"

The delicate teen looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. "No, I'm going to class tomorrow. If I don't I'll just sit and home or the hospital all day and think about my dad. I probably will anyway but there's a better chance I'll be distracted at school."

"Right," Sam said, understanding that logic. He was relieved. If Kurt had said he needed the time away from school he wasn't sure how he would have made himself go to class when he knew that Kurt was worrying himself sick.

The slim teen looked up into Sam's face. "Am I keeping you from doing your homework? I don't have anything I need to get done but I don't want to make you fall behind."

Sam smiled at Kurt's thoughtfulness. "No, I did mine during the day. Blaine's only behind because he's been hanging out with Puck. Besides, his idea of 'behind' is not having done his homework a week in advance, or something."

"Ah," Kurt said, chuckling weakly. "Well, then maybe I don't feel so bad."

Sam laughed and held Kurt tighter. "Are you tired enough to sleep or do you want to watch a movie or something?"

The other teen sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm _so_ tired but I don't think I _can_ sleep yet."

"Movie it is," Sam declared. "Upstairs?"

Kurt nodded and followed the muscular teen to his room. Sam closed the door behind him and looked to his boyfriend as he wandered over to his movie collection. He looked to Kurt guiltily.

"I brought your stuff in here but there's also a spare room next to mine. You can stay wherever you're most comfortable."

Kurt's cheeks flushed as Sam was glad to see the color on his too-pale face. "Here, if you don't mind. I, um, don't want to be alone."

"Of course," Sam replied with a sweet smile. He turned back to the movies and huffed. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

"Um, you pick. I can't really think right now," he suggested as he rummaged through his bag.

Sam turned back to the movies and started to browse them when he heard Kurt's muttered "Shoot".

He turned to the other boy and saw him staring at his bag in aggravation. "What's wrong?"

Kurt turned around sheepishly. "I forgot a pajama shirt," he confessed.

"Hey," Sam said. "I told you, I have everything. Well, as long as you don't mind wearing one of mine?"

"Uh-uh."

"'Kay," Sam said, quickly turning to face his dresser so Kurt couldn't see the goofy grin that was splitting his face. He pulled out a Dalton Fencing shirt and tossed it to Kurt. "It'll be a bit big…"

Kurt laughed as he caught it. "A bit? You dwarf me."

"I do not!" Sam said indignantly, unsure if Kurt was insulting _his_ tallness or his own shortness. Either way, not true.

Kurt gave him a tiny, sly grin before picking his way to the bathroom, closing the door enough for privacy. He slipped into the shorts he brought and grimaced when he realized which ones he'd shoved in his bag.

They were a bit shorter than he would have liked for his first boyfriend-sleepover but he thought that he could play it cool. Maybe the fear of accidentally flashing Sam would keep his mind off his dad's condition. Not likely, but it was possible.

They only covered about one-quarter of his thighs and a bit less in the back because his backside pulled them up. He pulled on Sam's dark blue Dalton shirt and laughed when he realized his shorts only came down about two inches from the hem of the shirt.

Oh well. At least he'd packed grey, a neutral color, and not something like purple. He looked in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair a few times before gathering up his clothes and slipping back in Sam's room.

He walked in to see Sam pulling off his shirt, already in a pair of shiny black basketball shorts. He was confronted with the sight of the blond teen's defined abs and he made the most undignified squeak as he hurriedly averted his eyes.

"S—Sorry!" he stuttered, covering his face with his clothes.

"My bad," Sam said guiltily. "I shoulda said I was changing. I thought I could be quick about it but my foot got stuck in these damn cords."

Kurt peeked over his clothes and noticed Sam had covered all that delicious tanned skin with a white shirt that just emphasized his golden hue. He was nudging a jumble of Xbox cords peevishly, spots of color high on his cheeks.

"S'okay," Kurt said, cursing how flustered he sounded. He avoided meeting Sam's eyes as he roughly jammed his not-so-dirty clothes into his bag. "So, what did you decide on?"

"How do you feel about _Transformers_?" he asked.

Kurt chanced a look back at the other teen and smiled. "Love it, actually."

Sam's face lit up and Kurt felt that familiar fluttering in his chest. Even on such a terrible day, this guy could make him feel amazing.

The tanned teen placed the movie in his Xbox and grabbed the DVD remote for it he found online. Kurt had slipped his bags onto the floor and was perched on the end of his bed nervously. "So, um…"

Sam just smiled and flung back the covers with a flourish and hopped in, scot so his back was against the wall. Before Kurt could make himself (un)comfortable there was a soft knock on the door.

Sam frowned in confusion and called "Come in!" Blaine pushed open the door, looking a bit harassed. Sam found out the cause a moment later when he held out R2-D2 with a pained grin. "Would you mind taking this?"

The Frenchie was covered in little paper dots, like the ones in a hole punchers tray and licking his tiny chops happily. "Yeah, sure," Sam said, abashed. "Sorry he got into your stuff again. I don't know why he likes your paper so much more than mine."

Blaine shrugged and smiled, giving Kurt a friendly pat on his way out and shutting the door. The little pup was exactly what they needed to break the tension between them because Kurt smiled and slid into bed, relaxed if not a little jittery.

"Hello there," he cooed to the puppy. "I'd forgotten how adorable you are."

He and Sam picked the circles of paper off his short coat and laughed as he tried to nip their hands. "Silly, it's not time to play; it's time to sleep."

"If you lie down and put him in the crook of your arm he'll go right to sleep," Sam advised.

Kurt turned his back towards Sam and let himself be cuddled into the strong, broad chest. He did as Sam said and, sure enough, R2 walked in a little circle before snuggling down into the cradle of his arm, soft puppy breath tickling his arm.

He giggled softly and scooted his arm away just enough so wasn't being tickled. He relaxed into Sam's embrace and focused on the movie.

Sam began to run his fingers through his hair and Kurt desperately wished he could fall asleep. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

The small teen sighed. "School, then go visit my dad for a little while. I know the doctor mentioned that we'd need to make it so my dad could stay someplace downstairs until he was well enough to make it to his room upstairs but I just don't think I'll have then energy," he admitted, feeling terrible.

Sam hummed in understanding. "I could help you, if you'd like. Or you could come back here and we could do it the day after."

"Don't you have practice?"

He felt Sam shrug against his back. "I could skip."

That made Kurt smile but he didn't want Sam to miss practice. As the starting quarterback, he really couldn't afford to be gone, especially with jerks like Karofsky on the field. "That's sweet, but you don't have to skip. It's probably not a smart idea to miss practice this early on."

Sam nodded reluctantly and kept petting Kurt's hair. "But I would like to maybe come back, if you're sure that's okay."

"Of course," he responded immediately.

"I just… can't stand to be there when I know my dad is stuck in the hospital," he admitted tearfully.

"Shh," Sam soothed. "It's alright. That makes sense."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I could go visit my dad when you're at practice."

"Works out pretty well then," Sam said with a smile. "You could take my car, that way you can grab more stuff from your house without asking Finn for a ride or something."

Kurt stilled before speaking. "You'd trust me to drive your smokin' hot car?"

"Yup. Besides, if _you_ break it, you can fix it."

That startled a laugh out the tiny boy, waking up R2-D2. "Whoops," he cooed to the dog. "Sorry, R2."

The dog went back to sleep immediately and Kurt angled his head back towards Sam's to let him know he was speaking to him. "Then, yes, that sounds great."

Sam remembered that he and Blaine would be alone for the week and felt like he should mention it. "Um, I should tell you that my parents are going to be out of town for the week so it's just going to be us and Blaine. Well, and probably Puck," he added as an afterthought.

"Thanks for telling me," Kurt responded. "I should probably let Carole know. And my dad even though I don't think he'll be able to remember. They have him pain killers and they make him really… loopy," he finished kindly.

Sam chuckled quietly and idly ran his hands over Kurt's side, reminiscent of the time they'd spent together when tryouts were cancelled due to rain. This time the gentle touches were more soothing than arousing and the blond teen smiled victoriously as Kurt's breathing slowed before evening out. His body went lax and Sam knew he'd fallen asleep.

He grabbed his phone and made sure he set his alarm a bit earlier so that they all would have time to get ready. He clicked of the movie and light before snuggling Kurt even closer to his chest. He covered the hand the slim boy had curled around R2 with his own, the dog grunting happily.

He shut his eyes and consciously relaxed his body. This had been a terrible, stress-filled day, but he was determined to enjoy the good that had come from it. Kurt was unharmed, his father was on the mend, and he got to hold the most attractive boy in Ohio all night long.

* * *

The next day really tried both Kurt and Sam's patience. New Directions had reacted predictably, smothering Kurt with their concern and platitudes. Kurt had smiled and taken it all in stride but Sam was practically vibrating with tension.

People needed to back the heck up. _Sam_ felt smothered so he couldn't begin to imagine how the other boy felt. He had made sure to take excellent notes in the classes they shared, knowing that Kurt's mind wasn't on the lectures but back with his father in Lima General.

Biology came and went and Sam attempted to hand Kurt his keys so that he could finally go visit his father only to realize he left them in his locker. He sighed and turned to the boy currently engaged in a conversation with Rachel.

He waited until there was a pause in conversation before telling Kurt he had to run to his locker. He nodded and stood off to the side with Rachel. The two divas were talking about the latest book released by some Broadway star that Sam had a feeling he should learn about.

He was glad that someone was able to act normally around Kurt and not treat him like glass. He didn't need to be constantly reminded of his father's condition or 'how you must be feeling'?

He grabbed his keys and turned around quickly. He nearly collided with a smug looking Karofsky and Co. crowded near a water fountain. God, he wanted to wipe that smug look of his chubby face. He sighed inwardly. He wasn't pleased at how vindictive he'd been feeling lately but he really, _really_ couldn't help it.

As he rounded the corner he had to suppress the urge to turn back around and beat the tar out of each and every one of those jocks.

Kurt and Rachel were covered in a red, thick, slushy mess. Their lips were pursed and they were slowly wiping the liquid away from their stinging eyes.

He approached the two, clutching his keys so hard he was certain that he'd have some irritating cuts on his palm and fingers. "Karofsky," he growled. "I'm going to kill that bastard."

Kurt turned to him, shivering at the sudden cold. "Please don't do something that is liable to get you suspended," he pleaded.

Sam sighed, deflated. "I know, I know." He brightened when he realized that he had practice today. His rapturous expression must have showed on his face because Kurt looked concerned.

"What are you planning?" he asked.

"Nothing, don't worry," he fibbed.

Rachel sighed and looked around at the thinning student population. "The girl's lockers should be empty since Cheerios practice got suspended because Coach Sylvester accidentally poisoned most of the cheerios with some weird protein powder."

Kurt nodded at her and looked to Sam. "I'm going to go take a shower so I don't ruin your baby," he explained. "If I'm not back by the time practice finishes just text me and I'll hustle back."

He leaned forward and placed a kiss to his red, syrupy cheek. "Take your time."

The slim teen smiled before turning around and following Rachel to the showers. He was so glad that he had dressed simply. It just so happened that he had worn and red shirt today, so he didn't have to worry the unexpected addition of something pink to his wardrobe.

Sam stalked to the locker room, fuming on the inside. Kurt had told him about the kids of New Directions being slushied in the past but how heartless do you have to be to slushy someone the day after their father has a heart attack?

The news had spread like wildfire through the school and there was no way that the confused jock hadn't known. He still hadn't forgotten what he'd witnessed between Karofsky and Kurt over the summer. Now, he doubted he'd ever be able to look at the huge boy without his temperature spiking in rage.

He dressed quickly, roughly throwing on his shoulder pads. Puck had the locker next to his, the boys becoming closer with each practice. The mohawked teen leaned in close while he tied his shoes.

"What's going on, man?"

He huffed quietly and glared at Karofsky from across the room. "When I was getting something out of my locker, Karofsky slushied Kurt and Rachel."

The Jewish teen narrowed his eyes in aggravation and shook his head. "Asshole," he said venomously.

"Mm-hmm," Sam agreed.

Puck slapped Sam on the shoulder companionably before heading to the field. Sam pulled his jersey on over his shoulder pads with a silent snarl. He was really bent out of shape over this; even more so because Kurt had just acted like it was normal.

He jammed his feet in his shoes and tied them aggressively. He turned around only to encounter Finn Hudson, still dressed in street clothes.

Sam pursed his lips but forced himself to be friendly. His almost-stepdad _did_ have a heart attack. "Hey," he said softly.

"Uh, hi," Finn responded.

He looked at the tall teen and waited. When no purpose for his presence was forthcoming he took matters into his own hands. "Caaaan I help you with something?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm…really sorry. For earlier this summer, when I was such an ass at your house. And practice. And tryouts. So, all the time, I guess."

Sam could honestly say that he was surprised but before he could respond the giant teen continued.

"I apologized to Blaine earlier. I—I don't expect you to forgive me, or whatever, but I thought I should say it anyway."

Sam slowly extended his hand to the other teen. "Thanks," he said slowly.

Finn shook his hand quickly and smiled that boyish smile before stalking out of the locker room. Sam shrugged and followed his teammates onto the field, ready to dole out some punishment.

* * *

Kurt left the hospital shaken and weak. He'd visited his father for about an hour when the nurses had come in to change the dressings.

When he had seen the damage from the surgeries Kurt had felt a tide of nausea wash over him. He kissed his father's sleeping face (natural sleep, by the way) and all but ran from the room.

He darted into the bathroom and was ill. In the sink. Kurt felt guilty for dirtying the sink and mortified that it happened. He cursed feebly and scrubbed at his eyes.

He left the restroom quickly and fled to the safety of Sam's car. He sat inside for a long moment, trying to get control of his emotions. He rested his head and hands on the steering wheel, concentrating on the sound of his breathing.

He sighed deeply and pushed back from the wheel, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car. He carefully made his way back home to pick up more clothes and grab his laptop. He pulled into his driveway and slowly trudged inside the house.

It was eerily quiet and empty feeling. Kurt quickly made his way to his room and sighed when the cool air of his basement washed over him.

He tossed his slushy soaked clothes near the laundry so he would remember to soak them in stain remover. He packed swiftly and more thoroughly than the day before, picking up equally simple clothing and his computer.

After a brief debate, Kurt decided to "forget" his pajama shirt again. It was silly, but he'd gotten a strange thrill out of wearing his boyfriend's clothes.

He laughed at his foolishness. He was becoming a typical high school girl; next he would be wearing Sam's jacket or class ring.

He swapped the shoes he's been wearing for a pair of Vans, deep purple with black seams and rubber soles. He grabbed his AP French work he had been working on over the weekend and deemed himself ready.

Kurt climbed the stairs slowly and shut his door behind him. He laid his clothes out in the laundry room and sprayed them with stain treatment before he wandered into the kitchen. He glanced at the clock and noticed that practice should be over in about thirty minutes.

He grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to Sam's car. He neatly arranged his stuff in the back, leaving room for Sam's duffel bag before gently closing the trunk.

He got settled in the car and placed the cold water bottle in the cup holder. He figured Sam would like a cold drink after practice and he was still too sick to try to keep something down.

He pulled into McKinley just as the team was leaving the field. He took perverse pleasure in noticing Karofsky's limping form. He didn't doubt Sam had something to do with that.

Less than ten minutes later Sam's smiling form trotted towards the car. Kurt popped the trunk and opened the door, stepping outside the car.

The blond jock tossed his bag in the trunk before trotting around the car and pressing a brief but affectionate kiss to Kurt's lips. He surprised the fair teen by continuing around the car and getting in the passenger seat.

He got back in the driver's seat and looked at Sam in question.

"Like you don't want to drive," Sam teased.

Kurt blushed and shrugged, putting on his seatbelt and turning the key, making the engine roar to life. He gestured to the water bottle as he warily pulled out of the parking lot. "That's for you, if you'd like it."

Sam beamed at him and drank nearly half the bottle in one gulp. "Thanks!"

Kurt just blushed and nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. They arrived at Sam's house before long and the slim boy got out of the car with a sigh of relief. He hadn't crashed what was sure to be his boyfriend's prized possession.

They retrieved their belongings and walked upstairs, noticing Blaine was already home. They walked in to discover the curly haired boy had made them all a snack; muffins.

"Thanks, man!" Sam enthused.

He smiled and gestured for them to take their pick. "I just used some of the mix your mom keeps and added some stuff."

"Thank you," Kurt said, more reserved. He reached for what appeared to be lemon poppy seed and inhaled the sweet smell greedily. He supposed he could indulge today.

He grimaced when he remembered he threw up and decided he could _definitely_ indulge today. Sam took a large bite before getting up from the table and setting a kettle to boil. The water boiled quickly and Sam poured the hot water into a decorative thermos before grabbing a cup and box of tea.

He deposited his burden in front of Kurt, pushing the honey already present on the table towards him. "I know you like tea but I don't know what kind," he explained, pointing to the box.

Kurt gave Sam a watery smile before reaching for the box of tea with a shaky hand. He really lucked out with this boy.

Blaine and Sam shared a look over Kurt's head. They both felt terrible that Kurt was genuinely surprised when someone was kind to him. For a boy that gave so much he certainly expected very little in return.

The dark haired teen gathered up his plate and tossed it in the dishwasher. "I'm headed upstairs for a shower. I feel all floury," he said, excusing himself. He paused in the doorway and turned to look back at them. "Um, if Noah gets here before I finish just, um, tell him I'll be right down."

With a furious blush, Blaine retreated to his room. Kurt and Sam looked at one another and burst into laughter. The blond teen rolled his eyes finished his own blueberry muffin. He looked to Kurt, waiting for him to finish taking a sip of his tea before speaking.

"Do you want to start on someone homework? I usually do it in the sitting room."

Kurt nodded and quickly drained the last of his tea. He felt much better with some food and tea in him and was ready to finish the little homework he had so he could concentrate on his time with Sam.

He had spoken with Rachel today and Jesse (through text) and they both urged him to focus on the positive. Their responses were strangely similar.

Either they had collaborated or they really _were_ made for one another.

He brought his plate to the sink and rinsed his and Sam's dish before placing them in the dishwasher. Both teens grabbed their bags and headed into the living room. Kurt was bust helping Sam conjugate verbs when the doorbell rang.

Blaine hurried down the stairs with a cry of "Got It!" before nearly colliding with the door in his haste. He opened the door to reveal a smirking Puck.

"Come in," he breathed, steadfastly ignoring the Kurt and Sam's mirth-filled gazes.

Puck ambled inside and waved at the two boys "studying" (eavesdropping) in the sitting room. "Hey," he drawled before pulling a freshly-showered Blaine in for a quick but passionate kiss.

The dark haired teen took Noah's hand and led him upstairs without further ado, the door to Blaine's room slamming behind them.

Sam and Kurt looked to one another, desperately trying to hold in their laughter. Kurt manages until Sam looked at him and said "Pretty sure they're working on Anatomy and Physiology. Oh, and homework, too."

* * *

Puck all but threw Blaine back onto the bed. His hands fumbled on his belt buckle and he tried to take off his clothes as fast as possible. Why the hell had he decided to wear a belt?

Blaine had the right idea, wearing cotton lounge pants and a simple shirt. He was completely naked before Noah had even managed to take off his jeans.

"Noah," he sighed, running his hands up and down his chest, one hand pausing to tweak his nipples while the other cupped his straining erection.

"Fuck, baby," Puck growled. "Keep going."

"Hmm?" Blaine said distractedly. "'Keep going' with what?"

The mohawked teen slid onto the bed, kneeling between Blaine's bent legs. "Touch yourself," he pleaded.

The curly haired teen flushed in embarrassment but he continued nonetheless. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back, softly sighing.

He lightly gripped the base of his cock, squeezing gently. He heard Noah groan quietly above him. Spurred on by Puck's arousal he let the hand playing with his nipple trail down his body to cup his balls.

His toes curled and he spread bent his legs, spreading his knees a bit more. He started a bit as he felt Noah's hands stroke up and down his thighs.

Blaine arched his back and bit his lip to stifle a moan rising in the back of his throat. He opened his eyes and they looked into Puck's shyly. The other boy's eyes raked over his body covetously. "So good, babe."

He shook the still-damp hair out of his eyes and released his cock. He reached up and scrabbled to open the top drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a bottle of lube and watched as Noah's eyes flared in lust.

He squeezed a bit of lube over his fingers and gave his erection a tentative stroke before returning to the bottle. He covered them with a more generous amount and traced light patterns on his abdomen before slipping to his cock, past the heavy sac, and below.

He heard the other teen's breath hitch and suppressed a smirk. He played with the rim of his hole, swirling his fingers in the outside, making himself slick.

He reached for the lube only to discover it was in Puck's hands. He spread his legs wide as Noah drizzled more lube over his opening, scooping it up with his fingers and pressing one inside.

He keened softly as he penetrated himself, quickly adding a second finger. Puck reached forward and grabbed Blaine's cock, stroking it in time to his own.

The smaller teen pumped his fingers slowly, building speed until he was practically squirming form the sensation. He bit his lip as he slipped a third finger inside, listening to the sound of Puck's gravely bedroom voice.

"C'mon," he said, leaning forward to suck and the junction of thigh and pelvis. Blaine gasped and came, painting creamy streams of come across Noah's collarbones and chest.

The mohawked teen pressed his forehead to his lover's quivering stomach and stroked himself furiously, grunting softly. With a drawn out growl, Puck came with his teeth worrying Blaine's over sensitized skin.

He dragged himself up the bed and collapsed into a boneless heap next to his smaller companion. He smirked happily and ran his fingers over Blaine's feverish skin.

The dark haired teen realized the Puck was tracing patterns over his chest with his come. He gathered enough energy to nudge at him tiredly, causing Noah to laugh.

"Pervert."

* * *

Sam and Kurt sat on either side of the loveseat, pointedly not touching. They pretended not to hear the sound of their friend's enthusiastic bedroom antics but couldn't keep the flush off their cheeks.

Finally, Kurt closed his book and looked to Sam desperately. "I just can't concentrate anymore."

Sam laughed and buried his head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. "I think the best part is they probably think they're being quiet."

"I'm pretty sure Puck doesn't care; he has no shame. I don't know that I can look at Blaine and pretend I have no idea what just went down in there," Kurt said.

This sent Sam into a fit of laughter, causing Kurt to replay his words. "I didn't mean it like that!" he exclaimed, berating himself for his choice of words. Going down, indeed.

"I know," Sam said around his giggles. "I just couldn't help it."

Kurt couldn't help but giggle right along with him, clutching his sides in mirth. Sam looked to the other teen before closing his book helplessly.

"Do you want to call it quits for the night and go up to my room and watch TV or something? I just—I can't," he finished with a chuckle.

Kurt nodded gratefully and neatly piled his schoolwork before following Sam upstairs. The noises from Blaine's room and stopped but he could still fell color blooming high on his cheeks.

Honestly, he was a little jealous. He wished he was that comfortable with himself. Not so he could have loud sex while other people were around, oh no, but that he could, you know, have sex in general.

Since that day in his basement he and Sam hadn't done anything of the sort. Kurt didn't want to rush into anything and he sure as hell wasn't ready for intercourse (he hated that word) but he wouldn't be averse to… trying some of the other things they could do.

Sam closed the door to his room and stretched. Kurt blushed as his eyes immediately went to the stripe of tanned skin that was exposed.

_I really should have looked on Amazon for a book. Or a reliable website. A forum, something._

He must have been lost in his own musings for longer than he thought because Sam placed a hand under his chin to get Kurt to look him in the face.

He smiled bashfully before sitting on the bed across from him. "So, I'm thinking we should probably have a talk."


	18. Cheeky

It's cliché, but no one ever wants to hear the words "So, I'm thinking we should probably have a talk", or any variation thereof, from their partner. Kurt was no exception and had to exercise every bit of his iron will to keep from grimacing.

"What kind of talk?"

"Um, I've actually been thinking of how to bring this up and Puck and Blaine kinda gave me the perfect opportunity."

 _Oh, God_ Kurt thought anxiously. _He wants to have_ that _kind of talk_.

"We said we'd figure it out together and kind of go with the flow but I noticed how you got, like, really uncomfortable? Like when they disappeared into Blaine's room. So I thought that maybe we should talk about what's, uh, okay?" he said.

Sam blushed and tried to gather his thoughts. "Feel free to jump in at any time," he said nervously.

Kurt exhaled shakily and clasped his hands in his lap. "I don't—I don't know what to say," he admitted.

"Well," Sam started. "Why don't you tell me why you were so uncomfortable when they disappeared?"

"Aside from the obvious?" Kurt deadpanned. Sam smiled knowingly and nodded, unperturbed by Kurt's tone. "I guess… I mean, I don't know what they were _doing_ but I'm just… not ready to have, like, sex yet. I dunno, just kinda worried about what you want and like, me not being able to do it. Or something…"

Sam's face softened and he reached forward to take Kurt's hand. "Don't worry about stuff like that. I mean, _yeah,_ I want to, but like, I don't _want_ to, you know? Like, I'm good waiting, or whatever," he said falteringly. "I mean, we haven't been together that long, not that I'd having a problem waiting for a while, like, there's no time frame or whatever."

Kurt chuckled as Sam backtracked and tried to reassure him. "Right."

"Just this is pretty great," Sam said, gesturing to their positions on the bed. Kurt decided to speak up and take his share of the embarrassing confessions.

"It's not that I'm not ready to do _anything_ ," he said slowly, avoiding the blonde's gaze. "I'm just not ready to… go all the way." He winced at the childish nature of his sex euphemism.

Sam didn't seem to notice or care. "Okay," Sam said comfortingly. "Um, I don't think I am either.:

Kurt was quite surprised at that and it must have shown on his face. Sam laughed and flushed attractively. "I know I kinda contradicted myself. I _want_ to, but I don't think we should yet. I just—I want this to work out and sex has a tendency to either make relationships stronger or break them completely. I'm hoping for the former, ya know?"

"Uh-huh," he said dumbly. He sighed and pushed his heads into his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ exactly. I just… I should probably talk to my dad. Maybe Carole."

Sam looked perplexed. "'Bout what?" he asked gently.

"Birth control? For like, when we _are_ …ready," he said bashfully. He grimaced, remembering. "But maybe after he's feeling better."

"Oh," Sam replied. "Yes, that's probably wise."

He could just go by himself, he _was_ seventeen, but he didn't think that he should be running around behind his father's back like that. He was pretty sure his father wouldn't freak out about him asking about birth control. Pretty sure.

Kurt focused on the moment, looking determinedly at Sam's sheets, biting his lip. "But…I'm not…opposed to maybe trying, like, other things," he trailed off suggestively.

He could see Sam nodded out of the corner of his eye. "Alright." He leant down until he could catch Kurt's eye. He smiled warmly and squeezed his hand in comfort. "But not tonight."

"No, not tonight," he agreed. Sex talks were so unsexy. Well, at least sex talks of this variety.

Sam patted his folded legs once before he got up and snagged the TV remote. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until eventually settling on _Dirty Jobs_ when he saw the other teen snigger over a camera man being attacked by a llama.

During the commercial break Kurt abruptly sighed and slumped against the wall. "I can't believe it's only Wednesday."

"I know," Sam said around a frown. He looked at the clock and noticed it was nearly 8:30. "Are you tired?"

"No," he replied. "Not tired. Just…exhausted," he said around a contradictory laugh.

"Mentally," the flaxen haired teen supplied.

"Yes," Kurt concurred. "Mentally exhausted."

Sam wiggled back towards his headboard against a mound of pillows. He held his arms out, beckoning the smaller teen. Kurt flushed and held up a finger signaling he needed a moment.

He quickly nabbed his sleep shorts (longer this time) and the shirt he had borrowed from Sam and disappeared into the bathroom. He changed quickly, brushing his teeth swiftly yet thoroughly.

He remembered walking in on Sam changing and closed his eyes as he exited the bathroom. "Are you decent?" he asked.

Sam chuckled. "Yes."

Kurt opened his eyes to find Sam in the exact same position he left him except in pajamas. "You _are_ a speedy changer," he remarked.

"I've got skills," Sam said, nonchalantly picking off an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder.

Kurt shook his head with laughter and climbed onto bed, slowly snuggling into the welcoming circle of Sam's arms. He focused on the television, thoughtlessly running his fingers across the tanned teen's collar bone.

Finally Sam twitched at the ticklish sensation. "Sorry," he said. "That snuck up on me."

The fair teen responded by burying his face into Sam's chest, closing his eyes. "Are you busy tomorrow?" he asked.

Sam looked at Kurt as best he could from their current positions. "Only busy with whatever you need me to do," he replied easily.

"Do you think you could help me make the house ready for my dad? They said he might be able to come home Friday."

"Of course," said Sam. "I said I would already, silly."

"Thanks," Kurt said softly. "You could stay over my place, if you like."

"Sure, I'd love to," Sam said quietly. He reached for his phone, jostling Kurt in the process. "Sorry; just want to text Blaine to let him know we're going to take separate cars again."

He felt Kurt's jaw tighten against his chest. "Sorry for messing up your entire routine. Are you sure you have time to help tomorrow?"

Sam placed his hand on Kurt's cheek and gently forced him to meet his eye. "Kurt, you aren't messing up anything or interrupting or inconveniencing anything. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else, anyways. And I suspect you'd do the same for me. Or Mercedes? Or Rachel?"

The slim boy nodded reluctantly and curled against this chest once more. "Well, as long as you're sure—"

Sam clicked his tongue in exasperation but Kurt silenced him with a look. "I was going to _say_ 'as long as you're sure at least let me make you dinner tomorrow'."

"Oh," Sam said sheepishly. He blushed in embarrassment. "Well, than thank you for offering. That sounds lovely." He figured a little extra politeness couldn't hurt in this case.

Him and his big mouth. Literally.

* * *

Thursday was much like Wednesday. The only marked difference (and improvement) was the lack of slushying and bullying from _certain_ jocks.

Kurt's friends surrounded him constantly but Sam could tell even that was stressful. No one seemed to know what to say or do to help the grieving teen.

He knew many of Kurt's friends would turn to prayer but the slim teen could take no such comfort. The fact that Kurt felt so differently from them made his friends wary of what they said or did for fear of upsetting him further, so awkward silence prevailed.

By the end of the day Kurt was ready to scream. Sam had kept his distance during the day, always on the periphery if Kurt needed him but never hovering like his ever-present gaggle of girls. The slim boy was looking forward to spending time with his boyfriend away from all this craziness.

He walked out of Biology, excess energy hopping under his skin. Kurt looked up into Sam's eyes plaintively. _Get me out of here_ they said.

Sam could do that. He placed a gentle hand on the small of Kurt's back and swiftly led him to the Camaro. He held open the door and the slender teen folded himself in the car, wilting in relief.

Sam got into the driver's seat and wordlessly took the brunette's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. With each pass of his finger he could feel the tension bleed out of the other boy as they waited for the parking lot to clear.

"Ready to go visit your dad?" he asked.

Kurt steeled himself and turned the blond. He forced himself to smile. "Yes."

Sam smiled and made his way to Lima General to pay a visit to Hummel Sr. Kurt asked him to make a pit stop at the florist near the hospital, wanting to pick up something for his father. Sam waited in the car, sensing that Kurt needed a moment to himself.

He was a little nervous about going to see Mr. Hummel with Kurt. He wasn't sure how he would be received, you know, the boy his son had been staying with while he's in the hospital.

Chances were that Kurt's almost-stepmother would be there as well. He glanced down at his clothes anxiously, worried about first impressions. He hoped dark blue cargos shorts and a white, antiqued _Zelda_ shirt would suffice.

He pulled open the sun visor and flipped open the mirror, trying to tame his flyaway blond hair. Sam turned toward the flower shop as he heard the bell jingle, signaling Kurt's exit. The slight boy carried a bright bundle of sunflowers in a clear vase.

He carefully maneuvered around the car and Sam reached to take the vase from his hands until he got settled in the car. "Thanks," Kurt said.

Sam nodded kindly and eased the car back into traffic, taking extra care to avoid bumps and sudden stops. They pulled into Lima General and Sam handed his keys to the valet. He would have parked the car himself but he didn't want to leave Kurt and walking around with a bouquet of flowers impairing your vision seemed foolish (and dangerous).

He followed Kurt through the hallways that led to his father's room. Kurt peeked in the open doorway and knocked softly on the open door. Carole looked up from her place at Burt's side and smiled when she saw the slim teen.

"Hey, honey," she said softly, gesturing towards his father. "He just fell asleep. Those look lovely."

"Thanks," Kurt replied in a whisper. He placed the arrangement on a table near the television. Sam stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets self-consciously.

Carole looked past her future stepson at the blond teen shifting form foot to foot. "Oh!" Kurt exclaimed softly. "Carole, this is Sam; my, um, boyfriend."

The motherly woman smiled and shook his hand warmly. "So nice to finally meet you."

Sam nodded and relaxed minutely. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

She nodded and looked towards her fiancé. She sighed sadly. Kurt slowly made his way over to his father and took the place Carole had vacated, gently covering his father's hand with his own.

Carole moved closer to Sam, keeping her voice hushed. "Thank you…for being there for him. I know that Kurt and I are still working on building our relationship but this would have been so much harder for him without someone to lean on."Her eyes filled with tears. "Burt wanted to me tell you thank you on his behalf, as well. For taking care of his boy while he can't."

Sam nodded, chewing his lip. "Any time," he said sincerely. Before he could continue, Burt blinked open his eyes and looked at his son.

"Hey, Bambi."

"Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?"

Mr. Hummel made a noise that seemed to encompass _not so good_ and _so ready to get the hell out of here_.

"I bet," Kurt said thickly. "When you come home, would you rather stay in the living room or the spare bedroom until you're well enough for the stairs?"

"Bedroom," he said decisively. "I don't want to be in everyone's way. It'll be a little easier for everyone."

"You're never in the way," Kurt said softly.

"Thanks, son. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah," he replied. "I just wanted to know because I'm going to go set it up after this since the doctor said you might be able to come home tomorrow."

"Don't get your hopes up," Burt warned. "I'm not so sure that's going to happen. And I don't want you moving stuff all by yourself, or whatever you plan on doing. Maybe you should—"

"Sam's going to help me," Kurt interrupted gently, gesturing to the boy standing against the wall.

"Sorry, kid, didn't see you there."

"S'alright, Mr. Hummel. Glad to see you're feeling better."

Burt nodded tensely and exhaled slowly. He turned back to Kurt. "I still don't want you going all crazy and redecorating the entire spare room to suit my heart attack needs, or whatever you have going on in your head."

The slim teen rolled his eyes and looked to Carole. "Will you please tell him I'm not going to redecorate the spare room to make it look like some chic at-home hospital room?" he pleaded. He turned back to his father and leveled a stern look at him. "The doctors said that you need to be able to get in and out of bed easily and some space to stretch and start walking. That's all I'm going to take care of."

"Alright," Burt said skeptically. He looked past Kurt and focused on the flaxen haired teen. "I'm counting on you to rein him in if he goes crazy."

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed.

Sam chuckled ruefully and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, sir."

The slender teen scoffed and pushed back from his father's bedside. "Excuse me, I need the restroom."

Sam was pretty sure he was just aggravated but wisely stayed silent. Burt closed his eyes and grimaced as he readjusted himself in bed. Carole flitted over and clucked over him, helping him get settled.

He could understand Kurt's desire to make his father as comfortable as possible. Said boy reappeared looking calmer and more put together. He smiled at Sam before standing next to him father's bedside.

"I think Sam and I are going to take off. We have quite a bit to do, including grocery shopping." He finished by looking at his father, causing the older man to flush guiltily.

"I know, I know," he placated. "I can't be trusted to feed myself…"

Sam could tell that once Kurt was assured of his father's health he got an earful about his eating habits and how they could have contributed to his heart attack. His smile softened and he leaned down to press a kiss to his too-pale cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, Kurtie."

The boy turned to Sam and took a deep breath. "Ready?"

Sam nodded. He looked to Carole. "It was nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Call me Carole," she responded.

He looked to Mr. Hummel as they reached the door. "Hope you feel better soon, sir."

Burt just nodded sleepily before drifting off. The two teens slowly exited the hospital and Sam handed parking attendant his ticket. The tall ginger teen ambled off in search of the car and Sam turned to Kurt.

He had his arms wrapped about himself protectively. "How are you doing?" he asked, tone hushed.

Kurt started and looked at his boyfriend. He smiled weakly. "Okay, honestly. Relieved that my father is going to be fine. I just always feel so… helpless, when I'm here."

"I can understand," said Sam. "Just being here is really… distressing."

"Yes," Kurt agreed readily. "Exactly."

The Sam's yellow sports car came to a halt in front of them, the valet getting out and another opening the door for Kurt. "Thanks," Sam said, shaking his hand and slipping a five dollar bill inside in the process.

The teens got settled and Sam pulled out of the parking lot. "So, grocery shopping first?" he asked, remembering Kurt's conversation with his father.

"Oh, you don't have to come with me," he replied.

"If you wouldn't mind company," Sam began. "I'd like to come."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah; I like grocery shopping. Weird, I know. My mom always does it when we're in class or something so I never get to go."

"That's probably why you like it," Kurt said. "Tell me; you were one of those kids that flipped out when they got the cereal aisle, weren't you?"

"No…" Sam said guiltily.

"Uh-huh," Kurt smirked knowingly.

"Hush up," he grumbled.

The countertenor laughed gleefully and reached over to gently brush the hair back from Sam's cheek. "I bet you were a cute little kid," he declared.

The blond just shrugged and blushed, chewing his bottom lip. Kurt let his eyes wander over Sam's face, taking in the striking features slowly. Yeah, luckiest gay teenager alive.

Sam cleared his throat, wincing when his voice still came out strangled and flustered. "Where do you want me to go?"

"Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting you don't normally come to this part of town," he apologized. "Keep going until you get to that second light and turn left into the grocery store up there."

Sam nodded and the two were soon pulling into a moderately busy parking lot. The teens got out and made their way to the automatic doors. Sam grabbed a cart and followed Kurt.

The slender teen pulled out a list from his back pocket and pointed towards the dry goods. "I'm just getting some stuff for dinner and a few things to hold us over until I get a chance to look through the heart healthy cookbook I bought."

"Alrighty," Sam replied. And then "Soooo, what for dinner?"

Kurt laughed and looked to the taller boy in amusement. "I've been waiting for you to ask me all day,"" he admitted.

Sam rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased that Kurt was feeling well enough to tease him. "Well, are you going to tell me?"

"I was thinking stir-fry, if that's okay."

"Sounds great," Sam enthused.

Kurt smiled as he added a box of pasta to the cart. "You're so easy to feed."

"Yeah, I guess I'm not that picky."

The teens chatted idly as they leisurely made their way through the store. Sam was able to convince to grab the ingredients for strawberry shortcake. They opted to use the premade shells found next to the strawberries but Kurt refused to use anything but fresh whipped cream.

Sam relented because, come one, fresh whipped cream? Yum!

As Kurt grabbed a bag of baby corn from the freezer section they ran into Dave Karofsky and his mother. The slim teen pretended to be engrossed in choosing the correct brand of frozen corn while Sam attempted to glare a hole between the jock's eyes.

The agitated teen paid him no mind, busying staring at Kurt's tense form. Sam's hands tightened their hold on the cart and he grit his teeth in anger. This kid just didn't know when to quit.

Soon Mrs. Karofsky was ready to move on and moved forward with her cart. She noticed her son's absence and clicked her tongue in annoyance before backing up. "David, stop this staring," she chided. "It's rude and I taught you better. Leave that boy alone."

 _Yes, David_ Sam thought acidly. _It's rude to stare._

"Sorry," he mumbled, coloring blooming on his cheeks in embarrassment at being caught. He shuffled behind his mother as they moved on.

Kurt puffed out a breath of relief as the turned the corner. He tossed a bag of baby corn into the cart. " _Awkward_ ," he sing-songed.

"Yeah," Sam seethed. "Did you notice the way he stared at you?"

"Jealousy's not very becoming, Sam," Kurt said slyly.

Sam smirked and shook his head. "Then why do you look so pleased?"

Kurt laughed. "Caught me," he said guilty. "Maybe it's a little becoming. Or flattering. Maybe."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, dutifully following the fair teen.

They finished their shopping trip without further incident and checked out. Kurt chatted with the elderly woman ringing them up and Sam was distracted for long enough that Kurt managed to pay for something.

 _Finally_ he thought triumphantly. He prayed his good mood would last the evening. He'd had enough of being down.

The groceries were loaded in the car and Sam offered the keys to Kurt with a knowing grin. The boy took them with a shy smile and slid into the driver's seat. He adjusted the mirrors and seat to his height and then they were off.

Kurt pulled into his driveway moments later, parking behind his Navigator. They were able to bring in the groceries in one trip, thanks to Sam's impressive arm strength.

They deposited the groceries on the table and Kurt made quick work of putting most of them away. He left the meat out and threw on an apron. He washed his hands and looked over to the blond teen watching him from the doorway.

"I'm just going to slice this up and toss it in some marinade. I figured we could arrange the spare room before dinner to work up an appetite."

"Smart," Sam commented. "Do you need any help?"

"No, sir. This'll just take a minute, I'm going to use mostly readymade stuff," he explained. "There's sweet tea in the fridge if you'd like it."

"You know it." Sam poured himself a glass and got Kurt a Diet Coke (he was no fool) and sat at the table, watching him in his element. Kurt glanced back and noticed Sam's affectionate gaze.

"What?" he asked bashfully.

"Nothing. Just… watching."

The slim teen just flushed and went back to slicing the thin steak they had chosen in to slim strips. He tossed them all in a gallon sized bag and added some stir-fry sauce and ginger salad dressing along with a few cloves of crushed up garlic.

He sealed the bag tightly and stowed it in the fridge, dumping the cutting board and knife in the fridge. He washed his hands and hung his apron up on the hook in the kitchen pantry. He poured some rice and water in the rice cooker and set it to steam.

Sam handed Kurt the Coke with a knowing smile. "I should be embarrassed about the fact you already know about my Diet Coke habit but I'm just grateful."

That surprised a laugh out of the blond teen as he followed his boyfriend down the hallways to the Hummel's spare room. Kurt placed his soda on the dresser and surveyed the room with a sigh. "There _really_ isn't that much to do," he explained.

Sam copied Kurt's actions and placed his drink on the dresser. "What did you have in mind?"

"The bed is too high for him to get in and out of easily; I'm worried he'll hurt himself by straining. We need to lower the frame. It's adjustable. I also wanted to push it against the wall, so that if he leans on the side it doesn't suddenly, like, move and make him lose his balance."

Sam nodded. They'd have to move the squashy armchair in the corner before they could move the bed to the desired place. He walked over to the chair and lifted it with relative ease. "Where do you want this?"

"Oh," Kurt peeped, inexplicably flustered by Sam's nonchalant display of strength. "Just on the other end of the wall. The bed won't come down that far."

Sam nodded, unaware of Kurt's predicament. He carried the chair over and deposited it carefully in its designated place. The slender teen chastised himself for getting distracted so easily.

"Do you think it would be easier to lower the bed and then move it or vice versa?" he asked Sam.

"Lower first," he said. "That way we can get at all the sides without a struggle."

"Um, we need to take the mattress off," he said gesturing to the wall near the door. "We'll just lean them there for now."

Kurt was glad for Sam's help. He could have managed this just fine on his own but it would have taken him much longer and caused him much more grief. With the two of them they would be done in less than thirty minutes.

They lowered the bed frame, Kurt pinching his finger in the spokes. " _Shit_ ," he cursed fervently, sucking his finger in his mouth.

"Lemme see," Sam said, gently tugging on the wrist of his injured hand. He examined the finger and _tsked_ sympathetically. " _Ouch_. That's the worst."

Kurt nodded in agreement and pushed the lever into place with his foot. They pushed the frame to the wall and piled the mattress and box spring on top. The slim teen pulled the sheets off and tossed them in a pile. "Those have been on there for a while," he muttered to himself.

He scooped up the linens and looked to Sam. "Why don't you go find something for us to watch in the living room? I'm just going to toss these in the wash and then I figure we can relax a bit before dinner. It's still early yet."

"Okay," Sam replied, grabbing both their drinks and heading to the Hummel's cozy living room. He placed them on the coffee table (on coasters!) and flopped back onto the couch. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.

He stopped on National Geographic, getting sucked in to some program about dinosaurs. Kurt reappeared a moment later and glanced at the TV before sitting next to Sam. The blond jumped, not having noticed him coming in, and moved to change the channel.

"No, this is okay," Kurt said, laying a restraining hand on Sam's wrist.

The muscular teen settled back against the couch and brought his arm around Kurt's slim shoulders. He pulled the other teen close and sighed happily when the fair boy nuzzled in close, curling his feet underneath him.

The sat quietly and watched as archaeologists exhumed the remains of a Velociraptor from a dusty dessert burial site. The show ended and Kurt pushed up from his position against Sam's side. "Hungry?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a sweet grin.

"'Kay," he said. He groaned pitifully and shuffled to the kitchen, not wanting to move from his position on the couch.

Sam shut off the television and followed Kurt, watching as he put in the apron once more. "Can I help?"

"Sure," he replied easily, glad to have company in the kitchen. He grabbed a cutting board and knife and motioned for Sam to take his place in front of them.

Kurt gave a few peppers a cursory wash before placing them in front of the blond along with some garlic, onions, and broccoli.

He grabbed a wok from the pantry and heated the skillet until it was screaming hot. He added the meat, marinade and all, and stirred in quickly. After Kurt was satisfied the meat was seared he poured it into a waiting bowl.

"How are those veggies coming?"

"All done," Sam chimed.

He slid the chopped vegetables into the pan and inhaled greedily as they simmered in the hot oil and sauce. "That smells amazing," he complimented.

"I know!" Kurt enthused. "It's the ginger. I love the way it smells; it's so fresh."

Sam hummed in agreements and watched Kurt avidly. The teen was striking when he was in his element. This made Sam want to watch the boy sing; he could only imagine how the slender boy came alive.

Sam was brought out of his thoughts by Kurt clearing his throat meaningfully. "Sorry," Sam said with a sheepish grin. "What was it you said?"

"I asked if you wanted some salad."

"Oh, sure, that sounds—"

"Great?" Kurt finished.

"Cheeky," Sam said fondly.

Kurt just grinned mischievously and nodded towards the fridge. "Grab the lettuce out of the crisper?"

Sam nodded and spied the mixture. He closed the fridge and opened the container. He stifled a chuckle when he realized Kurt premade his salad mixture, filled with spring greens and radishes and cherry tomatoes and the like.

"There are bowls above you," Kurt supplied. "And we have a ton of dressings in the fridge."

Sam retrieved two bowls and served them each a modest portion of salad considering the huge amounts of stir-fry and rice Kurt had made. "Ginger dressing okay?"

"Yes," Kurt replied as he added the meat back to the wok. "It'll compliment the stir-fry."

 _Of course it will_ Sam thought gaily. _You even match your foods._

Kurt just rolled his eyes like he could sense thoughts. He clicked off the heat and reached for two plates with a dip the center, prefect for stir-fry. The teens quickly served themselves and poured more to drink before Kurt looked at Sam ruefully.

"I don't normally do this because it usually annoys me, but do you want to eat in the living room? I just feel really lazy and slouchy today…"

"Totally. Let's go."

The boys settled on the floor in front of the couch so as not to spill anything on the upholstery. They tuned back in to their Velociraptor program and Sam chuckled as a CGI raptor squared off against a variety of modern day predators.

He dug into the meal with gusto, humming appreciatively. "This is amazing," Sam complimented.

"Thanks," Kurt said modestly, eating his more humble portion daintily. As usual, he fished first and stretched with satisfaction.

He levered himself onto the couch and settled behind Sam's broad shoulders. He softly ran his fingers through his golden locks and grinned like that cat that got the canary as Sam all but purred in contentment.

He lightly trailed his hands over Sam's shoulders and neck, lying down to relax into the softness of the couch. Sam finished his dinner and leaned his head back on the couch, sighing happily.

He turned his head and looked into Kurt's hooded eyes, smiling sleepily. "Hey."

"Hey," Kurt whispered back.

Sam leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Kurt's sweetly. He gently pecked the upturned tip before resting his cheek on the couch cushion and staring at the glasz-eyed teen.

"I don't think I've ever had so many Eskimo kisses," Kurt mused.

"How about the regular kind?"

"Those too, but I'm not complaining."

"Mmm," and with that, Sam pressed his pouty lips against Kurt's He kept the kiss light, softy brushing his mouth back and forth.

Kurt hummed happily and returned the gentle caress, gently tracing his fingers over Sam's jaw. The blond teen slipped his tongue inside for one slick moment before pulling back to look at the other boy.

"I like you a lot," he murmured.

Kurt nibbled his lower lip and lightly tapped Sam on the nose. "I like you a lot, too."

The fair-haired teen beamed at him before darting forward and placing a smacking kiss to his forehead. "I'll handle the dishes since you did most of the cooking," he declared.

"Just put them in the sink," Kurt instructed. "I'll take care of them in the morning. Eventually."

Sam nodded in understanding and gathered up their dishes and deposited them in the sink, turning the tap on and giving them a quick rinse. He came back into the living room to find Kurt arching his back and a languorous stretch.

"Sleepy?" he asked.

"No, just lazy," Kurt admitted. "Well, maybe listless is a better description. I have less than zero energy."

"Do you want me to take care of dessert? Maybe make some coffee?"

"Would you mind?" Kurt asked.

"Nope, not at all. You have to tell me how to make whipped cream though."

Kurt groaned in displeasure as he forced himself up. He plopped himself into a chair and propped his head up on his arms as he instructed Sam.

Before long the blond teen had whipped up a decent batch of whipped cream and assembled the strawberry shortcakes. Kurt had mustered up enough energy to set the coffee to brew and was now slumped at the table again.

"Look at you," Sam teased. "Lazy bones."

"Uh-huh," the delicate teen assented.

"Would you like to eat here or can you make it to the couch?"

Kurt paused before saying "Couch," decisively. He took the cup of coffee Sam had fixed him and his dish and trudged back into the living room. He plopped on the couch and waited for Sam to settle next to him before cuddling into his side.

Sam was pleased in this new development in their relationship. He was a huge fan of snuggling and he'd do anything he could to encourage the habit in the other teen.

They ate quietly, clinking and sipping mingling with the sounds of dinosaur cries. Kurt finished and crumpled to the side, Sam's side suddenly cold in his absence. "I'm so full."

Sam laughed at his dramatics. He patted at Kurt's thigh and scooped of their dishes and put those in the sink as well. He turned off the TV and grabbed their coffees. "Let's go downstairs. You look like you're seconds away from total collapse."

The small teen gave a put upon sigh but smiled as he stood up, taking his coffee and wandering downstairs. "Shoot," Sam said as Kurt opened the door. "I left my bag in the car."

Kurt took his drink and climbed down the stairs as Sam jogged to his car to retrieve his overnight bag/backpack along with Kurt's stuff.

He locked the door and shut off the lights as he made his way to Kurt's room. The other boy nodded in gratitude and tossed his bag onto a chair. He didn't want to unpack in front of Sam because he _may_ have appropriated the shirt he'd worn at night.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," he explained. "You can use the one n the hall if you'd like."

"Ugh, yes. It was so hot today."

He grabbed his spare clothes as disappeared back upstairs to take a shower. Kurt sighed and unpacked quickly before hopping in his own shower.

The truth was he had ulterior motives behind showering tonight. After the rather enlightening-yet-embarrassing talk they'd had the night before Kurt was eager to do a little…experimenting.

He cleaned himself up quickly yet efficiently, glad that he always took the time to make sure he was immaculately groomed in the morning. He ran his fingers along the smooth planes of his groin and had a momentary stab of anxiety.

Would Sam not like that? The last (only) time they had fooled around had been though their clothes. He had no frame of reference for this type of thing so he could only hope that his personal grooming habits weren't a major turn off.

He turned off the taps and wrapped himself in a towel, not bothering with his bathrobe. He scrubbed the water from his body vigorously, his skin pinkening further under the rough treatment.

He slipped into a pair of white boxer briefs and a shimmied into white and grey striped shorts, barely reaching mid-thigh. A light blue sleep shirt was next, big on him with a wide neck so it slipped off one shoulder if he didn't fuss with it.

Kurt had no intention of correcting the wayward garment.

He dragged a comb through his hair and slapped on a bit of nighttime moisturizer. He took a fortifying breath and pushed open the door. The room was empty but he could hear the upstairs shower through the open door. He grabbed a pair of white ankle socks and wiggled his toes as they warmed.

Kurt tidied his already clean room and unpacked his bag, shoving the stolen shirt deep into his laundry basket. He turned down the covers and fluffed the pillows. He sighed and grabbed his netbook and coffee, scooting onto the bed until his back rested against the wall.

He did the obligatory Facebook check but quickly went offline. He had no desire to talk to the various members of New Directions tonight. He was only interested in taking his and Sam's relationship in a new, sexier, direction.

He briefly debated doing a quick bit of research on... technique, but decided against it as he heard the water come to a stuttering halt above him. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath to calm his frayed nerves.

After a few moments the damp form Sam appeared at his stairs. He noticed Kurt sitting on the bed and his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to take so long."

"You didn't," he assured. "I was just really quick."

Sam balled up his clothes and stuffed them in his bag before taking out his phone charger. He plugged it in at the side of the bed and attached it to his phone. "I am so surprised that it hasn't died. I forgot to plug it in last night."

Kurt nodded in agreement and worried his lip between his teeth. Sam noticed but decided to let it go. The other boy closed his netbook and stowed it under the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"A bit better. Still lazy, though."

"Soooo, movie? Or more dinosaurs?"

"Movie," he replied. Sam stopped him as he made to get up.

"Just play whatever's in there," he said.

"Ummm," the slim teen hesitated. His cheeks colored lightly as he reached for the remote.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's… _Marie Antoinette_. I watched it a few times over the weekend," he confessed.

"You up for watching it again?"

"Are you?" Kurt asked.

"Totally. I liked it last time and this time I'll just understand it more. Hopefully I can remember everyone's name," he said, poking fun at himself.

Kurt switched on the DVD player and pressed play once he was prompted. He couldn't help but remember the last time they had watched this movie they had be engaged in some amorous activities soon after.

Amorous activities he'd like to engage in rather shortly.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Sam abruptly slumping against the pillows, smiling at him boyishly. He held open his arms with a questioning look on his face.

Kurt gave an exaggerated sigh and crawled over the other teen, laying his head on his chest so he could at least _appear_ to be watching the movie when what he was really doing was attempting to put the moves on his incredibly good looking boyfriend.

He tentatively wrapped his arm around Sam's trim waist and nuzzled his face into the defined muscles of his chest. The blond teen reached down and twined their fingers together, eyes on the screen.

Biting his lip, Kurt took a page out of Antoinette's book and eased his leg over Sam's, glad when the other teen didn't jump and chastise him about his cold feet. Marie should have worn socks. Stockings. Whatever.

Kurt gently untangled his hand and slowly rubbed it across his stomach, smiling when Sam's arm came around him and rested on his hip. He shifted slightly, inwardly crowing when his shirt slipped off his shoulder, cool air kissing the feverish flesh.

He felt goose flesh raise on his pale skin and let himself shiver, pressing close to the other teen. He felt Sam's calloused fingers tickling his lower back before skimming up around his sensitive navel. He was unable to stifle a giggle.

"Sorry, ticklish?"

"Apparently," he muttered.

Sam curled his fingers around his hip bone more firmly and settled deeper into the pillows, bringing their faces closer together. He sighed quietly and wiggled closer, tucking his head underneath his chin.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Sam's neck and moved his had from his waist to his shoulder, gripping softly. The blond hummed happily and held him close.

Kurt was running out of ideas to entice the imperceptive teen. Maybe he was being too subtle? Bolder declarations of interest seemed daunting to the nervous boy. Well, he'd just have to keep trying.

Luckily, Sam presented him with a wonderful opportunity. He turned away from the TV to glance down at the wriggling teen. "Can't get comfortable?"

Kurt just shrugged and tilted his head up for a kiss. Sam smiled and pressed a lingering smooch to his lips. The slim teen made an appreciative noise and pulled the other boy closer, deepening the kiss for a moment.

He let the Sam pull away and settled more fully on top of him, the butterflies in his stomach running rampant.

Annoyingly, they got through the whole movie and Kurt was beginning to think the other boy was being willingly obtuse. He pushed himself up from the warmth of Sam's chest and flicked of the DVD player and TV.

He collapsed onto his back and sighed dejectedly. Sam turned towards him and smiled softly. He softened his expression and turned his head to face the other teen.

The blond turned on his side and rested his hand on Kurt's belly. Seeing an opportunity, he stretched, causing his shirt to raise and Sam's hand to come in contact with his bare skin. He kept his expression sweet to keep his boyfriend at ease. The last thing he needed was for Sam to think he was pushing him into something he wasn't ready for.

They lay side by side and just looked at each other. "Hey," Sam said.

"Hey yourself."

Sam ran his finger down the bridge of his nose, catching on his lips. Feeling brave, Kurt gently nibbled on the tip of his finger, holding his eyes.

Sam inhaled slowly, his eyes igniting with a very delicious kind of heat. He took Kurt's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his fingers, his palm, his wrist. He gently tugged on his arm until the slim teen moved forward, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Sam's neck.

One hand cupped his cheek while the other rested on the sharp angle of his hip bones, thumb stroking back and forth.

Kurt swallowed audibly, tilting his face up. Their breathe mingled between them, coming in hot pants before Sam gave a tortured groan and captured his lips in a passionate kiss.

He slipped his tongue between Kurt's lips, licking the lingering taste of coffee from his mouth. He kissed trail of fire over his cheek until he reached his ear. Sam took the delicate skin between his teeth and worried the skin gently.

The combination of his hot breath and soft pressure cause Kurt to gasp heatedly. He hitched his leg over Sam's waist and used it to pull him closer still. "Kurt," he whispered against his temple.

He turned his head, chasing after Sam's lips. "Kiss me," he hissed.

And he did. Kurt's lips tingling with the intensity of the kiss. The blond teen slid a rough hand under his shirt, rubbing at the skin between his shoulder blades. "This okay?" he asked.

"God, yes," Kurt purred against his full mouth.

Sam kissed down his neck and gently sunk his teeth into Kurt's shoulder experimentally. The other boy arched his spine and scratched his blunt nails down Sam's lower back.

The blond teen played with the hem of his shirt. "Can I?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Kurt breathed. "You too."

Sam eased of the fair teen's shirt before sitting up and whipping off his own, tossing it off the side of the bed. He lay back down and drew him close, their chests rubbing against one another and feeling better than Kurt ever imagined.

And oh, had he imagined. It was hard not to after catching a glimpse of this blonde's statuesque perfection. He only hoped his attributes pleased Sam as much.

Evidentially they did because the other boy's hands roamed over his body hungrily, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Kurt sighed happily, copying the blonde's motions, slowly running his hands along those defined abs. He bowed his head and pressed a slow kiss to Sam's chest, then another, and another before nibbling just above his heart.

The muscular teen growled, deep and gritty. He looked up and saw that the fire in Sam's eye had been stoked and he was practically devouring him with a gaze.

It seemed that seduction was something Kurt Hummel did quite well. He mentally patted himself on the back before pushing away slightly. The heat in Sam's eye clouded over with confusion at Kurt's sudden change of pace until he saw the teen's nimble fingers toying with the hem on his sleep shorts and underwear.

Sam slowly reached forward and slipped his fingers alongside Kurt's. "Let me?" he asked plaintively.

Kurt nodded his consent and he lowered both garments, eyes locked with Kurt's as he slipped the flimsy fabrics down his lean legs.

He maintained eye contact as Kurt plucked at his shorts with shaky hands. "Are you sure?" he questioned.

"I am." Kurt insisted. He smiled weakly. "Just nervous. You're sort of the first boy to see me naked."

"Lucky me," he whispered, smiling reassuringly.

Kurt bit his lip and pushed off the offending garments, feeling Sam kick them away. The teens stared at one another for a heavy moment, air between them thick and charged with excitement.

Together, they looked down, taking in the nude form of the other. Kurt firmly quashed any urge he had to cover himself primly and let Sam look his fill because Kurt sure was.

Sam was already stiff and straining up towards his stomach, longer and thicker than Kurt's own erection. He already knew that nature was kind to Sam in this department but it was another thing to be confronted with him in all his glory.

He let his fingers skim just above the closely cropped wiry blond hair and listened to the hitch in his breathing. He chanced a look into Sam's eyes and relaxed at the desire he saw there.

Sam teasingly trailed his fingertips over Kurt's thighs, tickling the pale boy and making his arousal throb sharply. "You look so good," he sighed.

Before he could respond Sam tentatively pulled them together, their naked erections sliding over one another. Kurt quickly caught on and bucked eagerly into the cradle of his lover's pelvis.

Meeting his eyes, Sam slowly licked his palm and brought it down between them, grasping them both in his firm grip. Kurt groan in pleasure and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sam's neck before pulling his mouth down to meet him halfway.

He worked his hand between them and his fingers tangled with Sam's as they both stroked each other feverishly. Kurt whimpered brokenly as he felt Sam's guitar-roughened hands rub his engorged length.

He tightened his grip and delighted in Sam's gasp of pleasure, breaking off into a deep-throated growl. The pace went from languid and tentative to desperate and urgent.

Kurt pulled his hand away and locked both of them around Sam's neck. He used his newfound leverage to roll onto his back, pulling the pleasantly startled teen on top of him.

Sam grasped his chin with one hand and held him firmly while plundering his mouth. Kurt arched up into Sam's body, their forms thrumming with tension.

Kurt wrapped his long legs around Sam and felt the muscles in his thighs and lower back begin to burn with the strain. He heard Sam grunt above him and felt his thrusts pick up the pace. He keened as the tension inside him coiled anxiously, every muscle clenching, before releasing like a spring.

He came with a wordless cry, a white-hot rush coming over him as he emptied between their bodies. The added slickness from his orgasm eased Sam's frantic thrusting. The desperate teen's mouth sucked a pale mark onto Kurt's collarbone causing the boy to mewl, the pleasure making his weak body shiver.

Sam thrust once, twice, and then still, Kurt feeling the hot spray of his seed. The blonde's body collapsed onto him limply, both teen's gasping for air.

The tall teen eased off Kurt's smaller form, spooning up behind him and wrapping his arms around his chest. Kurt allowed himself to be maneuver with his back to Sam, mouth quirked in a happy, sated smile.

He brought his hand up and felt a lingering wetness at his collar bone. "Sam," he questioned breathlessly. "Did you give me a hickey?"

Sam's face appeared above him, grinning wickedly. "Oops," he replied, unrepentant.

"Mmhmm," Kurt said disbelievingly. "You seem real sorry."

Sam chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "That was really good," he murmured in satisfaction.

"Yeah."

He cuddled back into Sam's chest and closed his eyes, a contentment thrumming through his veins. Sam gently tugged in his shoulder until he was lying in his back, eyes still closed. He felt the other boy rest his chin on his shoulder. "Hey, Kurt?"

"Hey, Sam?" he replied cheekily.

"Before, when we were watching the movie," he began. "Were you…," he trailed off uncertainly.

Deciding to tease Sam a little, he pretended not to follow along. "Was I…?"

Sam looked at him with amused eyes. "Were you putting the moves on me, Kurt Hummel?"

He grinned flirtatiously. "You're just now realizing that?"


	19. Unfair Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, chapter nineteen! What in the world has this fic become? As always, thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers. You're the reason I do this ^_^
> 
> This chapter is going to dip in the serious end for a bit but there will also be plenty of laughs and fluff to go around. This chapter will see the return of Wes and David! *rejoice* I'm crazy excited about that. They are kind of like this unholy, dynamic duo in my mind and I am super jazzed to be writing them again.
> 
> Enjoy! Oh, and by the way, the "old Jewish remedy" Puck talks about is totally true. For serious, I've done it and it works. The whole Jewish part is the fabricated bit. (I think)
> 
> Disclaimer: The fact that I will never own the brilliance that is Glee makes me weep. Weep.
> 
> WARNINGS: The usual with the addition of HYPOTHETICAL domestic violence. I apologize if this is a trigger for some of my readers but it's really only a sentence or two.

It was Friday and Burt Hummel was _not_ coming home. Carole had called Kurt early that morning to let him know that his father wasn't quite well enough to make the trip home but that all signs pointed to Sunday.

Kurt had still been in bed with Sam, awake but not wanting to move when he heard Carole's ringtone (Louie Armstrong's _A Wonderful World,_ her favorite song) and nearly fallen out of bed in his haste to answer his phone.

She had been sleeping at the hospital and woke up when the nurses came in to do his first real checkup of the day. They looked grim and called in the doctor who delivered the news. Kurt thanked her for letting him know and promised to tell Finn when he saw him.

It was no use trying to get him on the phone before school because A) he slept until the last minute and wouldn't hear it and B) if he _did_ answer the phone, he'd be sleep-answering and never remember.

He hung up with Carole and burrowed back into the covers and Sam's arms. He wouldn't cry. He _wouldn't_. "My dad isn't going to be able to come home today. Or tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, voice low and thick with sleep. "I know how much you wanted him to come home."

Kurt exhaled audibly and tried to get back what he was feeling before he'd answered the phone. "Yeah." He felt Sam press a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

"How much longer until we have to get up?" he asked.

Kurt glanced at the phone he was still holding. It was only 7:30. "If we dress fast and eat cereal, half an hour."

The blond tightened his grip and settled back into bed. "I'm okay with that."

Kurt smiled reluctantly, his sour mood beginning to melt away. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift aimlessly. He was glad to have this time with his boyfriend; a relaxing start to what was sure to be another trying day.

Suddenly, Sam groaned unhappily behind him and flopped away from him. Kurt turned around and looked at the blond in question. "What is it?"

"I'm not looking forward to practice today."

Kurt frowned and rested his head on Sam's chest. "I thought things had gotten better. I mean, since Finn apologized."

"Oh, it's not Finn," he clarified. "That's been much better. I just can't stand some of the other guys in the team. The things they say… and Karofsky's the worst of them all and it just drives me insane because I _know_ that everything he says is a lie and a cover."

Kurt nodded somberly, patting Sam's shoulder in comfort. Somehow their relationship had flown under the radar of the general populous of McKinley. Only New Directions was aware of his and Sam's more-than-friendly association.

"Has Puck said anything?" he asked.

"Mostly he just glares and beats the crap out of people on the field. I'm surprised Finn didn't tell the team about me and Puck when he was upset."

Kurt didn't say it, but so was he. Finn wasn't malicious but he didn't really have a brain-mouth filter when he was _calm_ , let alone angry.

"It's not even that I'd care if they knew," he continued. "I said it before; I'm proud of who I am and I'm so happy to be with you. I want everyone to know but, in my head they're all insanely jealous, when I know that the reality of the situation would be much different."

"Understatement of the year," Kurt replied drolly.

Sam sighed and nodded dejectedly. "What are you going to do tonight?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Carole wants to have dinner with Finn and me. She's pretty much lived at the hospital this past week. I also think my father is sending her home to make sure I haven't renovated the spare room and turned it into an elegant hospital suite."

The muscular teen chuckled, the sound deep and rich under Kurt's ear. He nuzzled closer to Sam and snuffled sleepily. He wished he could just stay here and forget about school.

But he had a test in AP French today and he wasn't going to give up his perfect GPA for anything.

He worried his lip between his teeth and looked up into Sam's hazel eyes. "Would you mind if I watched you practice?"

"You wanna watch me during practice?" Sam asked.

Kurt flushed and shrugged before nodding shyly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

The slender teen settled back down for a moment before sighing and forcing himself sit upright. He looked down and Sam and ran his fingers through the other boy's sleep tousled hair. "We should really get up."

Sam nodded and allowed himself to be pulled from the warm nest of blankets. Kurt wandered into the bathroom the brush his teeth and comb his hair while Sam dressed sluggishly.

He pulled on his jeans and left them unbuttoned, stretching slowly. Kurt walked back in the room and gestured that he was finished and Sam could use it while hiding his blush behind his hand.

The teens went about their morning routines quietly and quickly, dressing and freshening up. They wandered upstairs and had a quick breakfast of Cheerios (Kurt couldn't get through a bowl without giggling at least once) and were on their way.

Since Kurt was going to stay to watch practice he would just catch a ride home from Finn, enabling Sam and Kurt to ride to school together.

The muscular teen looked over to him and caught his attention. "We haven't been out on a date in a while," he remarked. "Would you like to do something tomorrow?"

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, glad for the distraction and time with his amazing boyfriend. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Yeah, if it's something you'd be interested in."

Kurt smiled in amusement. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes," Sam said teasingly. "Have you ever been to Color Me Mine?"

Kurt shook his head, having never even heard of such a place. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's kind of like an art studio. They have all these, like, ceramic things that you can paint; like cups and plates and silly statues and stuff. Then they fire them and you can take them home and use them. They have like, coffee and cappuccino and ice cream to eat while you do it."

"I'm sad I've never heard of this before," Kurt replied. "I'd love to."

Sam beamed at Kurt in pleasure. He was relieved the other teen seemed excited at the prospect, unlike his last girlfriend that looked at him like he'd asked her to go mud wrestling. Yeah, Kurt was pretty awesome.

* * *

The day passed at a snail's pace. Kurt had actually _fallen asleep_ during Biology when Mrs. Tartan had rolled out the ancient television and played a movie about the respiratory system. Luckily Sam prodded him awake as the credits rolled and Rachel had taken excellent notes, which she promptly offered to share.

He flushed in embarrassment, despite Sam and Rachel's assurance they understood why he'd been so tired lately. He scrambled to gather his things and ended up knocking over his back pack in the process, spill its content all over the floor.

Kurt was ready to cry in frustration. Sam waved Rachel off and (for once) she tactfully retreated, leaving the two boys in the rapidly emptying classroom. The blond boy reached down and quickly gathered Kurt's things, stacking them neatly and placing them back inside the satchel.

He fastened the buckle before sitting on the desk in front of Kurt. The other boy had his head buried in his hands and was slumped over the desk. Sam managed to pry one hand away and held it with both of his own.

"Come on," Sam said. "Look at me."

He waited until the fair teen lowered his other hand and look at him. His face was blotchy and creased from lines on his bag and he looked on the verge of tears.

"What's goin' on?" he asked gently. "I know it's more than falling asleep during the movie and knocking your bag over."

Kurt made an unidentifiable noise and looked away, suddenly engrossed in the diagram of a human eye. Sam sat still, prepared to wait this one out. He didn't have long to wait before Kurt shrugged noncommittally and looked back to him.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I hate feeling like this."

"Like what?"

"That's just it; I don't know. I feel tired and sad and angry and like I'm gonna cry and stupid little things keep making me just…ugh!"

Sam slid off the desk and onto his knees in front of the distressed boy. "Kurt," he said slowly. "I hate to remind you, but your father is in the hospital. If you weren't feeling this way, I'd be worried."

"I just don't want to lose him too," Kurt admitted thickly.

"You're not," the strong teen replied adamantly. "You heard the doctors; he's doing fine. Just because he can't come home today doesn't mean he is suddenly going to take a turn for the worse, okay?"

He waited for Kurt to nod before he stood up, still holding the slim boy's hand in his own. Kurt followed his progress with his eyes and offered Sam a weak smile.

"Now, are you sure you're up to staying to watch us practice? I won't be upset if you say no; I have enough time before practice starts to run you home, if you'd like." He didn't really, but, well…

"No," Kurt said firmly. "I'll be fine, really. I just… needed a moment I guess."

Sam looked at the boy's face searchingly and nodded once, gently pulling the boy from his chair. Kurt surged upwards and wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, standing on his tips toes and burying his face in his neck.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Sam returned the embrace happily, glad he was able to help. "Don't mention it." He pulled back and pressed a soft peck to his temple, running his thumb across Kurt's high cheekbone. He dropped the boys hand and walked towards the door, the fair boy in his wake.

"I'm going to go get changed," he explained.

"I'll go find a place on the bleachers. The Cheerios are still banned from practicing and Brit has been sitting there because she says she doesn't remember what she did during the evenings before she had practice."

Sam just nodded, already used to Brittany's unusual way of looking at life. "I'll look for you," he promised.

Kurt grabbed him before he walked away. Sam turned to face his boyfriend, a question in his eyes. Kurt looked around before smiling and pulling him into a sweet kiss, languid and gentle. He pulled back and trailed his hand down Sam's arm as he walked away. "Bye," he chimed.

"Bye," Sam replied, just a moment too late. He heard Kurt's chuckle as he sauntered away without a backwards glance.

Sam shook his head and trotted off towards the locker room, a wondering smile on his face. When he first had the idea to transfer to public school, he _never_ thought he would have the opportunity to be even _half_ as happy as he was now. The transition wasn't without problems, that was for certain, but it was better than he imagined.

His good mood lasted until he walked into the locker room and heard the raucous laughter of Karofsky and his cronies. Once again, Sam bit his tongue and was the bigger man, once again.

He swiftly made his way to his locker near Puck's and changed into his gear faster than ever before. His mohawked companion seemed to notice and called him on it.

"Where's the fire?" Noah asked good-naturedly.

Sam laughed and realized how silly he was being. It was still just a regular practice. If he got too nervous, he'd mess up and look like an idiot, not just in front of Kurt, but in front of the team. While his boyfriend might find it charming and forgive him his flustered fumbling, he had an inkling the team would react a little differently.

"Sorry. I guess I just got a little nervous. Kurt's out there," he replied quietly.

The mohawked teen nodded in understanding and punched him in the shoulder pad with a wink. "I'll make you look good."

Sam laughed joyously and did one last check (helmet, pads, shoes, pants) before charging out on the field.

He spotted Kurt and Brittany quickly. The object of his affections was sitting near the edge of the bleachers, arm in arm with the simple girl. Their heads were bowed in conversation but they broke apart when the blonde girl pointed towards the field at him.

He could practically see Kurt blushing from here. He gave them a jaunty wave and wandered over to where the team was congregating around Coach Beiste. She blew her whistle and the boys lagging behind hustled over.

The coach yelled at them in her colorful way and called her assistant forward to lead them in warm-ups. Then it was time to run the plays they had gone over on Wednesday and Sam was grateful for his sponge-like sports memory.

Puck made good on his promise to make Sam look amazing on the field. The two of them had joined forces to try and tackle the resident idiots into submission. So far it hadn't worked but the teens were still optimistic.

Finn had noticed his almost-step-brother's presence on the bleachers and jogged over on the break to talk to him (presumably about Burt and that night's dinner) during one of their water breaks.

From stolen moments on the field Sam noticed Kurt seemed to be in much lighter spirits, talking animatedly with Brittany. Practice was nearly over and he was looking forward to having a moment alone before they both went off to their respective houses and had dinner.

He and Blaine were planning a pizza and movie/video game marathon in honor of having full reign over the big screen downstairs since his parents were in New York for the weekend. He shook his head and got ready for the next snap.

The play went off without a hitch and then it was time for a few field goals. Sam trotted over to the kicker and placed the ball on the tee, rolling his eyes at the idiot squad behind him. If he had been paying more attention he would have noticed the wicked look the kicker shared with laughing hyenas. The lanky kicker jogged back a few steps and ran forward, kicking the ball with all his might.

Right. At. Kurt.

The ball hit the teen from shoulder to neck with a detour to his face and the blonde girl next to him shot up in alarm and concern. She quickly sat on the bench in front of him and placed he hand on the opposite cheek while Kurt clutched the side of his face.

Sam's anger overtook him when he heard the majority of the team roar with laughter. He strode past the kicker and knocked his shoulder pad with such force he crumpled to the ground. Behind him he heard Puck and Finn's outraged yell and Coach Beiste's shrill whistle.

He paid them no mind and scaled the gate before quickly climbing the bleachers, two rows at a time. He reached Kurt in no time at all and crouched down to take in the damage.

Now that he was closer he could tell that the pale boy was actually clutching his nose and that it was bleeding. Brittany was visibly distraught, sniffling in a way that signaled this may all end in tears. He tried to pry Kurt's hand away but the boy shook his head emphatically.

"Sweetheart, let me see," he cooed. "I've had enough of these to be able to help."

Below him he could hear Coach Beiste ripping into the kicker and those that had put him up to it, not really hearing the words but glad something was being done.

He could hear someone else scaling the bleachers and come to halt behind him. From the awkward throat clearing he had concluded it was Finn, come to check on Kurt.

"Um, Coach Beiste wants you to come down and let her take a look."

Kurt nodded, still refusing to move his hand from his nose. The four of them walked down the bleachers, Sam's hand a soothing presence in the small of his back.

Coach Beiste already had the first aid kit open and gestured for Kurt to take a seat in front of her on one of the sideline benches. Sam pulled off his helmet and sat next to him, upset beyond words.

The coach managed to coax his hand away from his face and Sam wanted to attack the kicker all over again. His nose was bleeding quite steadily, already starting to swell and bruise. Sam swiped at Kurt's bloody hand with an alcohol wipe and tossed it in the trash.

The slender teen hissed in pain as Coach Beiste gently prodded at the tender appendage. He squeezed Sam and Brittany's hand tightly, a few stray tears leaking out.

The blonde girl clucked in sympathy and laid her head against his shoulder in comfort. Finn hovered uncertainly in the background, alternating between looking worried and pissed off. Puck was a fair bit off, clearly eavesdropping on Karofsky and Co., though they were too daft to notice.

"It's not broken," Coach Beiste declared after a moment. "And we're damn lucky about that. It'll just be tender and you'll have one helluva shiner, kid."

Kurt chuckled inanely. "My first black eye."

She removed a sterile cloth from its packaging and handed it to the boy, urging him to press it to his nose. "Don't lean back, and press firmly," she instructed. She then broke one of the instant-icepacks to activate it and told him to use it when the bleeding had tapered off.

Coach Beiste told them all not to move (team included) and went to her office to get the necessary paperwork to fill out when a student was injured.

Kurt wiped his nose and motioned for another cloth. Brittany was closest to the kit and quickly handed him another one, glancing over at the team hatefully. Sam was willing to bet that the majority of the cheer squad would know about this by the end of the hour and the ones that had laughed would find themselves without their usual Cheerio adoration.

"Ouch," Kurt said pitifully. He dabbed at his nose experimentally and it appeared he had stemmed the blood flow. He looked towards Sam, tissue poised near his face. "Has it stopped?"

Sam nodded slowly, leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead and then his cheek, on top of the tread marks from the football's impact. While welcome, his gesture of affection may have been ill timed.

One of the idiots, Madison or Morrison something, retched dramatically and drew the attention of the entire team. "Dude, you're a _fag?_ "

Sam stood up ready to defend himself and Kurt but, shockingly, Brittany beat him to it.

"No, he's a person. And a better football player than _you_."

Madison scoffed and looked back to the rest of his posse for support. Of course, Karofsky spoke up. "I can't believe we changed around you. Better watch out, Puckerman. His locker's near yours."

The mohawked teen looked at them distastefully before turning to Sam and smiling mischievously. He walked over before patting the blond on the shoulder consolingly. "Sorry, dude, you're just not my type. Know any curly haired brunettes?"

It took a moment, but the team eventually puzzled that out. "Ew, you too?"

And then, shock of shocks, _Finn Hudson_ stood up for someone other than himself. "Seriously, lay off. They're _not_ looking at you, it's _not_ contagious, and they're damn good players," he defended. He then lowered his voice dangerously. "And if you ever hit my brother again, I will mess you up."

There was a general chorus of "Whatever, man. You're probably queer too" and "I don't want a fag as captain".

Sam just smiled because _he_ could see that Coach Beiste was in hearing distance and they couldn't. While they ran their mouths Coach Beiste paused and pursed her lips in annoyance. She blew her whistle and he smiled as Kurt chuckled when the team jumped, their expressions filled with dread.

"I know I didn't hear that hogwash come out of your fool mouths!" she yelled.

The team stared at her in horror. To say that she looked pissed was an understatement. They recoiled from her imposing form as she stood in front of the group of small-minded teens. "Wind sprints!" she declared.

When they groaned she blew her whistle and pointed to the track. "Sprints or you don't play the first game! I will not have this kind of malarkey on my team! You don't have to like each other but you _will_ respect each other."

The shamed teens grumbled but made their way over to the track. "Edison!" she called. The kicker turned toward her and broke away from the group when she motioned for him to come forward.

"You're sitting out until further notice. What you did was dangerous and shamed this entire team."

The outraged teen opened his mouth to complain but thought better of it, kicking the grass as he stalked off to join the others.

Coach Beiste walked over to Kurt, currently icing his nose, and puffed out a breath. "I know this is the last thing you want to do, but I'm going to need you to fill out these forms."

Kurt nodded and attempted to juggle the icepack and clipboard for a moment before Brittany took it off his hands and started filling out the bits she could, leaving the signature spaces blank. Oddly, she seemed to know all his _and_ his father's information; birthdays, phone numbers, address, etc.

"Now, I can't give you anything for this here, but when you go home keep the ice on it for fifteen minute intervals until the swelling seems to go down or at least stop. And take something like ibuprofen for the pain. You probably already knew that, but I feel better for saying it."

She knelt down and clapped a hand on his knee. "I want to apologize for what happened. I don't tolerate that kind of thing on my field and I intend to squash this like a farmer in the fall."

Kurt looked to Sam in confusion before nodding in understanding. He opened his mouth to reassure the coach that he didn't blame her for teenage idiocy when there was a cacophony of yells from the teens sprinting as one of their partners in crime vomited all over someone else's shoes.

She closed her eyes and looked skyward as if asking for divine intervention or maybe just the patience to deal with the unruly bunch.

Instead of reassuring her he simply said "Good luck" as she trudged over to the troublemakers to sort out another mess. Before she took three steps she turned around and gestured to the teens waiting near Kurt and the few that hadn't participated in clichéd teen homophobia (Mike and Artie).

"Y'all can get lost. We won't get anything else productive done today."

They nodded and disappeared from the field, leaving the small gaggle of teens crowding around Kurt to themselves.

"You just hafta sign," Brittany said, handing him the pen.

"Thanks, Brit." Kurt signed without his usual flourish and slid the pen inside the top of the clipboard.

Puck stepped forward and gestured towards Kurt's icepack covered nose. "Vitamin E cream, dude. It'll make the bruise fade faster."

Kurt grimaced at the idea of putting anything but his moisturizers on his face (some of them had vitamin E!) and Noah spoke up again.

"Hey, it's that or melted chocolate."

There was a general consensus of _what?_ before the mohawked boy defended himself.

"I'm serious! Google it! My nana used it on me all the time when I was little; it's an old Jewish remedy." And with that, he left.

He looked at Finn pleadingly. "Can we stop at CVS on the way home? I don't want to put chocolate on my face if I don't have to."

"Yeah," he said distractedly. "I'm gonna go change so we can go to the store before we visit Burt."

Kurt nodded and looked towards Sam. The blond teen met his gaze before looking around in confusion."Where did Brittany go?"

"She ran off that way. I think she saw Santana," he explained. Kurt took the ice away from his nose and shook his head sadly. "My dad is going to be so upset."

The quarterback gently brushed back a stray lock of hair for Kurt's forehead and wrapped his arm around the boy. "I'm so sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"Still," he replied. "I am."

Kurt reached rubbed his shoulder and grimace, making a sound of discomfort.

"Oh, your shoulder!" Sam exclaimed, pulling away. "I completely forgot! Do you need Coach Beiste to look at it?"

Kurt shook his head and another tear made its way down his cheek. "Just sore."

Sam bit his lip but nodded in understanding. He watched as Kurt placed the icepack against his forehead.

"I have a really bad headache," he explained, voice thick with tears.

The blond teen stood up and held out his hand to help Kurt. "I have some Advil in my gym bag," he explained. "And you need to go this way for Finn's truck."

Kurt took Sam's hand and walked with his boyfriend to the locker room, their pace slow and cautious. The slender teen was swaying on his feet and the tanned teen was worried he would fall.

They reached the locker room and Sam pressed Kurt down on the bench outside. "Be right back. I'll tall Finn you're here."

Kurt nodded and leaned against the wall while he slipped inside to retrieve the painkillers. Sam reappeared within moments and handed the sore boy two pills and a cold bottle of water. "Here you go, sweetheart," he murmured.

He took the medicine with a grateful nod of his head. Then he remembered something. "Sweetheart?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said uncertainly, cheeks pinking. He sat next to Kurt, mindful of his tender shoulder. "Do you mind?"

The too-pale teen shook his head and smiled as best he could. "I like it."

"Good," Sam said with relief. "I should warn you, I've been told I can go a little overboard with terms of endearment."

Kurt shrugged. "I'm just glad that I have someone to call me pet names at all."

Sam felt a pang of _something_ wholly unpleasant and depressing at the fact that Kurt felt this way. He swept a gently hand down his back in concern of a different kind. "Are you feeling alright? You look a little sick, if you don't mind my saying so."

Kurt just breathed through his nose steadily and took another sip of water. "I don't like blood," he confessed in a whisper. "I have a weak stomach."

Sam nodded his head and mentally crossed off a number of films and video games to introduce Kurt to on his mental list. He idly pet Kurt's back and whispered to him comfortingly.

"Are you going to be up for our date tomorrow? We can do something else if you think it'll be too much."

Kurt shook his head as emphatically as his headache would allow. "I'm not going to let this mess up my whole weekend," he declared.

"Kurt, just because you don't want those pig-headed jocks to get the best of you doesn't mean you should push yourself when you really need to slow down. Why don't we wait until tomorrow and see how you feel, hmm?"

Kurt frowned and nodded, seeing the reason in Sam's thoughts. As much as it irked him he may have to sit the weekend out if the throbbing in his upper body didn't go away.

Finn stepped out of the locker room, showered, changed, and ready to go. Sam stood up and pressed a kiss to forehead once more before hesitating in front of his mouth. "Is it going to hurt you if we kiss?"

"Uh-uh. Just watch my nose," he said ruefully.

Sam did, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. "You'll text me later?" he asked.

Assured by Kurt's nod, Sam reluctantly parted from him and walked into the locker rooms. He took of his jersey and shoulder pads as he walked to his locker and tossed them on the floor. He leaned against his locker and ran his fingers through his hair before scrubbing his palms over his eyes.

"This sucks."

* * *

Sam got home well after Blaine and the shorter boy had already set up the living room for their movie and gaming marathon. He knew that the other boy had been looking forward to this as much as he had and he didn't want his mood to sour the evening.

As worried as he was about Kurt, he didn't want to neglect his friend. He was still trying to get a handle on the time management thing and he refused to keep putting people he loved on the backburner. He vowed to have a quick conversation with his friend about the events at practice and then focus on having an awesome time with his friend.

And then check his phone as often and discreetly as possible.

He walked upstairs to put his backpack away and heard the shower in his friend's room running. He changed into some basketball shorts and an old Star Wars shirt before running downstairs to take R2 for a quick potty break.

He grabbed his phone and scooped up his pup and jogged downstairs. He placed him on the grass and kept an eye on him since he hadn't bothered to get his leash.

When it became apparent the R2 was more interested in rolling in the grass than going to the bathroom he grabbed him and went back up stairs.

He walked inside and saw Blaine coming down the stairs, freshly showered and frowning at his phone. The boy looked up when he heard the soft click of the door closing and smiled tentatively at his friend.

"Hey," he said haltingly.

"Hi," Sam replied.

Blaine looked at his phone once more before slipping it in his pocket and descending the rest of the stairs. "Puck just sent me this really cryptic text. Did… something happen at practice?"

"What did he say?" Sam asked curiously. He was kind of surprised that the mohawked teen had texted Blaine about practice. He felt bad for not giving the seemingly gruff boy the credit he deserved.

"He said that you'd probably be upset when you got home. Something about how some guys on the team are causing trouble?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Let's go into the living room."

Blaine nodded and the boys made themselves comfortable on the plush couches. The dark haired teen looked at his friend, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. "What happened?"

"Practice itself was fine. We did really well and all the plays worked out. Things went south when we started the field goals."

Sam recounted the events of the afternoon quickly and efficiently, not wanting to linger in his description. He was upset enough and he didn't want to keep reliving the shock of fear he felt when he saw Kurt get hit with that damn ball.

Blaine was appalled at the callousness of the team. "I mean, seriously! Who does that?"

"Coach Beiste was _so_ pissed. She banned him from the game and made them all do wind sprints for god knows how long. I don't think that they'll try to pull something like that again."

"Are you worried about them knowing about your relationship with Kurt?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out on Monday."

Blaine nodded and looked at him for a moment, taking in the lines of tension on his face. Sam would be way too distracted to do anything until he'd heard from Kurt. Truth be told, so would he. Getting hit in the face _and_ neck _and_ shoulder by a homophobic jock was no joke.

"Want to start with a movie?" he asked. "I don't mean to downplay what happened but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't stand a chance against me in _Halo_ right now."

Sam smiled lazily. Yeah, this was just what he needed. "Whatever, man. Keep telling yourself that."

"Psh," Blaine said dismissively, walking over to the stack of DVD's he brought down. He grabbed _Avatar_ and waved it at the blond boy. Sam could use a little cheering up, and while he was perfectly happy with Kurt, he knew that he'd always have a thing for Jake, blue or not. "Are you going to order the pizza? Or do I have to do everything by myself?"

Sam laughed, maybe a little too loud and a little too long, but he was just glad that he had such an awesome friend. "I got it."

Not long after, both boys were ensconced on the couch, pizza and Mountain Dew in hand, engrossed in the fantastical world of _Avatar._

Mostly.

Sam had been gripping his phone like suckers on a giant squid. It had been nearly two hours since the events on the field and he hadn't heard anything.

He had been wrestling with himself or whether or not he should text first or wait for Kurt to text him. Just as the blond was about to give in he heard the welcome tones of _Fools Rush In_. He exhaled in relief and rushed to open the text.

_Sorry it took so long, hospital visit took longer than we thought. My dad got really upset._

Sam could understand the elder Hummel's ire. If any of his hypothetical children were ever treated such a way he would have someone's head on a platter. He could only imagine how frustrated Mr. Hummel was, being stuck in the hospital.

_How are is he feeling? How are *you* feelin?_

He looked back up to see Blaine had paused the movie and was looking at him expectantly. "Is everything alright?"

"Dunno yet," he replied. "I just asked him. He got held up with his dad."

The other boy nodded in understanding and picked at his pizza, his own phone buzzing against his leg. He guessed it was Puck, but the usual happiness that text from the tough teen was tempered with a bit of frustration.

It looked like he wasn't the only on that need to get some things off his chest. He was jarred out of his thought by another text from Kurt.

_He's okay. I get yelled at by the doctors for stressing him out._

And then another.

_I'm alright, I guess. I look terrible, though. If we go out I'm going to need to wear a lot of makeup…_

Sam frowned and desperately wanted to see what Kurt deemed as _"_ terrible".

_You nevr look terrible._

Blaine was busy texting away so he didn't feel guilty for spending a moment of their moviethon texting his boyfriend.

 _You're sweet…_ _I hope we can go out tomorrow_

So did Sam, but he wasn't going to make the emotional boy feel any more down than he was surely feeling.

 _We can always do something else_ he promised.

He was just as happy watching a movie with the other boy as he was going out. He'd been on the receiving end of a few wounds like that and they could really take a lot out of you. He got another response from Kurt and checked immediately.

_I know, but we'll see in the morning. Sitting down to dinner, text you after._

Sam replied _Alright_ and placed his phone to the side. His friend was frowning at his phone thoughtfully, unaware of his friend's scrutiny. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

Blaine jumped and laughed at his silliness. Eventually his expression sobered and he tapped out a quick text before looking at Sam. "I have no idea what's going on."

"With Puck?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

His friend nodded and sighed tiredly. "I know I said I was okay with whatever we were, but I'm not. Not anymore. I just… I don't know if I can do the friends with benefits thing."

"Have you talked to him?" he asked kindly. Sam and Noah's friendship was still new, but he was pretty damn sure the other boy cared for his friend. And not just in a "I care about the next time I get laid" way.

"No," he confessed. "I just don't see a guy like him settling down with a guy that likes old black and white movies and cashmere sweaters when he could just be with some gorgeous cheerleader and be at the top of the pack."

Sam smiled this friend sadly. Unfortunately, the only time his friend seemed to have the confidence he needed was when he was singing. "A lot of people would say the same thing about me."

"Sam…"

"Maybe you should just talk to him. You might be surprised," he suggested gently. "And besides, then you'd know either way and it won't be on your mind anymore."

"You're right," Blaine sighed. "I know you're right. It's just going to be so uncomfortable."

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," he said teasingly, thinking back to his comment earlier.

That got Blaine's attention and he spun to face Sam more fully. "Has he said something to you?"

Sam shrugged and pressed play, affecting an air of obliviousness.

"Sam Jordan Evans, you tell me what he said right now!" the charismatic singer demanded.

The blond mimed zipping his lip and Blaine growled, kicking at Sam with his feet until the other boy relented with a laugh and grabbed his friend's ankles to make him stop. "Okay, okay!"

The dark haired teen looked at him expectantly and yanked his feet away. "Well?"

"After Kurt got hit and I kissed him the team started ribbing on me and told Puck he better watch out, 'cause I might be ogling him, or whatever."

Blaine nodded and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Teenage boys are a special breed of stupid."

"Mmhmm," Sam agreed. "But he basically told them he was into guys as well. Guys that look like you, to be precise."

"Really?" he asked, eyes shining hopefully.

"Really."

His friend smiled like Christmas had come early and collapsed back into the couch cushion in a much better mood than he had been a few minutes ago.

The boys finished their movie and stretched lazily. Sam got up and cleaned their pizza explosion, laughing at the fact that the two of them were able to consume so much pizza in the span of one movie _and_ they still had two pies being kept warm in the oven.

They decided to play some videos games and were soon Xbox zombies. Blaine had managed to untangle the web of wires his Xbox cords had become in moments and the blond playfully glared at him.

First of all, how did the wires _get_ that way? And second of all, that would have taken him the better part of an hour and probably resulted in him just pulling his hair out in frustration before buying new ones.

They were deep in their gaming coma when Sam was startled by his phone ringing and vibrating against his thigh, signaling a text from Kurt. He dropped his remote at a crucial moment and Blaine absolutely obliterated him.

The curly haired boy looked at him and smiled innocently. "Whoops."

"You look so sorry," Sam deadpanned. He just shook his head and checked his message as Blaine laughed unrepentantly.

 _Finished with dinner_ he said simply.

Sam felt both elated and unhappy that he could read Kurt's mood through the phone. The closeness they already felt was amazing but was saddened that his boyfriend was feeling so down.

_You should get some rest, sweetheart._

He hoped he hadn't overstepped any boundaries by making that suggestion but, from experience, he knew that the only thing that made you feel better when you were that beat up (literally) is rest and time. And maybe some of his mom's cooking.

_Yeah, I think I'm going to call it an early night. I was going to take a bath but I'm just too tired_

Sam immediately had to think unpleasant thoughts. Now was not the time to think about Kurt in the bathtub. Perhaps one day they could take a bath together, maybe even one day soon with the way their relationship was progressing, but not now.

_Goodnight then. I'll be up for a while if you can't sleep._

He figured he should mention it in case the slender teen had a hard time switching off tonight. God know he had enough on his plate and he could tell Kurt was the type of person to run through things that were bothering him again and again and again.

And then once more.

He was brought out of his circular thoughts by Kurt's ringtone.

_Okay. I think I'm going to take some nyquil, just so I can sleep._

He realized that he was nodding at his phone like Kurt could see him and stopped, trying to see if Blaine had noticed his momentary lapse of sanity.

Yeah, he did.

_Sleep well. Hope you feel better._

Blaine was smirking at him as he waited to start another round of _Halo_.

"Oh, hush. I'm just saying goodnight. He's going to take some cough medicine so he can get some sleep."

Blaine's smug look faded into concern. "Is he alright?"

Sam nodded. "I think so. He said he looks terrible but I'll believe that when I see it. He's just aching and exhausted."

Before his friend could respond he received on last text form Kurt.

_Thanks, Sam. You really are amazing, you know that? G'night._

He felt himself flush. Normally he'd send a text back but he didn't want to disturb the boys sleep. They'd been down that road and they would just stay awake to text one another back and forth. While he normally didn't have a problem with that, tonight was not the time for an all-night gab session.

He put his phone on the table and looked at his friend. "Game on. No distractions this time."

"Whatever, lemonhead. Press play."

* * *

Kurt was rudely awakened by a sharp twinge from his nose. He'd rolled over and nuzzled his head into the pillow, forgetting the events of yesterday in his sleep haze. He gasped in pain and his hand reflexively clutched his face.

" _Shit_ ," he swore vehemently. It was a damn good thing that he quit football when he did because if _this_ is the type of injury he ran the risk of getting? No fucking thank you.

Kurt hated even thinking so crassly but he figured he was damn well entitled. His face hurt and his neck hurt and his shoulder hurt and he didn't even what to think about what he looked like.

Emotionally, he felt better. Yesterday all he wanted to do was cry but held off because he had the tendency to scrunch up his nose when he did so and he couldn't even bear the thought of what that would feel like. But physically? A whole lot worse.

His head was throbbing and he felt more hungover than that time he'd drank wine and puked all over Ms. Pillsbury's shoes after he'd mistaken her for Bambi. Not one of his proudest moments.

Still, it was nothing a few extra-strength Tylenol couldn't cure.

He groaned pitifully as he slowly maneuvered into a sitting position. He took a few deep breaths to push back the throbbing and pounding in his skull and slowly made his way over to his bathroom.

He puffed out a shaky breath and faced the mirror, eyes closed. _One, two, three_ he counted. On the third count he opened his eyes and immediately shut them again.

Shock over, he opened his eyes once more to survey the damage. Truly, it was better than he imagined. The swelling had gone down massively overnight to the point that he actually looked like he was hit by a football and less like he abused at home or something equally as tragic.

The bruising, however, was a going to be a bit more tricky to camouflage. Thankfully his nose hadn't been affected by the mottled purple, blue, and yellow hues. The side of his face that had suffered the impact was awash with the mottled coloring, spanning from the bottom of his eye and all across his cheek.

 _Thank MAC and its wonderful concealing powers_ Kurt thought like a prayer. As much as he wanted to go out on his date today he didn't want to do it if he looked like some battered housewife. Neither he nor Sam needed that attention.

Thankfully he had the skills and the products he needed to look almost as flawless as he had before he became intimately acquainted with a pigskin projectile.

He gently prodded at the tender skin and hissed softly when the ache spiked. He sighed and arched his back slightly, gazing longingly at the tub. He may have been too tired to take a bath last night but this morning was a different story.

He looked at the tiny opalescent clock on the wall and noticed it wasn't even nine o'clock. Satisfied that he would have enough time to bathe _and_ eat _and_ spend an inordinate amount of time making himself look presentable before Sam had even stirred.

He knew that the blond boy could take his gaming very seriously and was probably up until the wee hours of the morning. He was grateful for the opportunity to take his time this morning, certain that his usually routine was going to take much longer than usual.

He fiddled with the faucets, getting the perfect temperature before pushing the lever and letting the tub fill. He added come lavender and chamomile bubbles to the flow and watched as clouds of foam formed on the surface of the water.

He gingerly shed his clothes and slipped into the steamy water, sighing in relief. He soaked a washcloth in the warm water and draped it over his face, closing his eyes once more…

He realized his had fallen asleep in the tub when he got a nose full of soapy water. He sputtered and grappled for purchase on the slippery porcelain. He huffed in annoyance and abruptly drained the tub.

He sat in the tepid water as it drained from tub, arms crossed in aggravation. Well, there went his relaxing bath. Though, he supposed he must have been quite relaxed to have fallen asleep but it wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

Water drained, Kurt stood up and turned on the taps for his shower. He found that as soothing as baths were, he never felt as clean as he did when he showered.

Reasonably, his shower took a bit longer than usual. His shoulder was still sore but the steady pounding of the water was helping to ease some of the tension form his muscles. He glanced at his shoulder ruefully but was pleased to notice that it only had the barest hint of yellow discoloration.

He finished and toweled off, wrapping himself in his terrycloth robe. He walked out of his room and headed straight for his phone. The clock read 10:03 and he nodded to himself. Yup, plenty of time.

He slowly made his way upstairs, following the smell of coffee and a promise of a breakfast he didn't have to cook himself. Carole really was a great cook. Her style was a bit different than his own but he found that refreshing rather than revolting.

He padded into the kitchen and smiled at Carole as best he could. He hadn't gotten around to taking any more medicine and it was starting to take his toll.

"Morning, honey," Carole greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he replied honestly. "Still not great, but better."

She nodded and went back to flipping the french toast she was making. "You look much better. Did you take some Tylenol or something yet?"

"Not yet. I feel asleep in the tub, if you can believe it," he confesses sheepishly.

Carole chuckled and placed a few slices on a plate along with some sliced up oranges and placed them in front of Kurt. "I can."

She disappeared in the hallway and came back with a few bottles. "Which do you prefer: Tylenol or Advil?"

'Whatever's best for swelling?"

She nodded in amusement and shook out a few Advil. "Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs," she parroted as she handed them over. "I'd take some with you if you're planning on going out today."

Kurt nodded emphatically, totally in agreement. It didn't take away _all_ the pain but it did its fair share. He gulped them down and started on his breakfast, Carole placing a cup of coffee (just the way he liked it) in front of him as she joined him for the first meal of the day.

"So, do you have any plans for today?" she asked.

"Sort of," he began. "Sam and I had made plans to go to Color Me Mine, that pottery place, before all this happened. I'm feeling up to going but it all depends if I can convince him of that. Otherwise, I'm not sure."

Carole nodded in acknowledgement and sipped at her coffee thoughtfully. "Well, that sounds like fun. I've never been there but I've always wanted to. You'll have to let me know what it's like."

Kurt nodded as he swallowed a bite of french toast. "What about you?" he asked in turn.

"I'll probably go visit your father a bit and then stop by the medical supply store to get some things for him."

Kurt nodded. "I'll probably drop by later in the evening." He finished his breakfast and took his plate to the sink. He turned on the faucet to wash the breakfast dished but Carole stopped him.

"Just leave those for me," she bid. "It'll give me something to do while I wait for the laundry to be done."

Kurt nodded and smiled in thanks before refilling his coffee cup. He pecked Carole on the cheek and went back downstairs.

He placed his coffee on his vanity and grabbed his newly purchased Vitamin E cream. He wasn't yet so desperate that he was going to try Puck's remedy.

He dabbed it on lightly before gritting his teeth and rubbing it in. This was not an addition to his skin care regimen he'd like to implement permanently. He abandoned his usual skin care ritual and opted to try to take care of the bruises. He'd just make sure to be extra fastidious about his routine when the marks had faded.

He grabbed his concealers and got to work. He was so glad he had watched all those YouTube tutorials on how to cover hickeys when Tina and Artie had gotten a little over friendly. It was clear that being in wheelchair was no hindrance to his friend when he wanted to "get his mack on".

Hickeys , bruises, same thing, right?

The next twenty minutes were an exercise in patience. His sore shoulder was giving him trouble, severely limiting his range of motion. Just as he'd get comfortable he'd try to move too quickly and drop the sponge or container.

He had to pull on a pair of shorts and run upstairs to spot treat the stain. Carole had grimaced in sympathy when he had breezed into the laundry room and took the robe off his hands. He thanks her profusely and grumbled his way back downstairs.

He finished his makeup and nodded decisively. It wasn't perfect but the discoloration on his face was a little more severe than the hickeys that had marked Tina's face.

His nose was still a little swollen and he twinkled up his nose in distaste only to regret being so damn expressive. He looked like a Who from _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. Hopefully Sam dug that look.

Now it was nearly 11:30 and he figured it was time to wake up Sleeping Beauty. He walked over to his bed and got comfortable before he called Sam.

The other boy answered on the third ring. _"Hullo,"_ he said sleepily.

"Hey," Kurt replied in amusement. "Late night?"

" _Uh-huh. I was going to call as soon as I'd had a cup of coffee."_

"Oh, I'm sorry," the fair teen replied. "Do you want me to call back?"

" _Nah, it's fine; just gives me a reason to get up. How are you feeling?"_

"Better. I'm still really sore and I look like I got punched in the face but I feel so much better than yesterday."

" _You were punched in the face,"_ Sam said without humor. _"It just wasn't with a fist."_

"Mmm," he agreed. "How was your video game-movie marathon?"

" _Blaine beat me but only by one game and that's because he waited until I was distracted by texting you to kill me!"_ he said sourly.

Kurt chuckled. He'd have to remember that Sam could be a bit of a sore loser. "Well, I'm sorry I made you lose."

" _You sound very sorry,"_ he groused. Then he chuckled and Kurt could hear rustling and the click of a door. _"I'm glad you feel better. I was worried."_

"I'm sorry I had you worried," he said sincerely. "But I promise I feel better. Well enough for our date, even."

He heard a coffee pot brewing in the background and figured he could safely assume Sam was in the kitchen. _"I guess I'll see for myself in a little while."_

Kurt sighed. "I just want to prepare you; I still look a little… battered."

" _Right. Consider me prepared."_ He replied grimly.

"So," Kurt said, wanting to move this conversation to a lighter place. "How did you want to do this? I don't know where Color Me Mine is. Would it be easier for you to come here or me to go to you?"

There was an extended pause before Sam responded. _"Sorry, I was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee. It's much closer to me, so do you want to meet here?"_

"Sure. I still need to get dressed and it sounds like _you_ still need to wake up," he teased. "How about I'll be at your place in an hour, hour and a half?"

" _That should work out great. Can't wait to see you."_

 _I wouldn't be so sure_ Kurt thought. Rather than upset Sam further he responded with "Neither can I. Enjoy your coffee."

" _Thanks. See you soon."_

"See you."

He hung up and let himself smile as much as his sore face would allow. He stretched and went to the closet. There was one thing he was certain of: putting a shirt on was going to _hurt_. Just the thought of lifting his arm above his head or trying to finagle his way inside a regular shirt brought tears to his eyes.

He grabbed a soft white shirt. It had short sleeves and the silhouette of a blue-grey sparrow stitched on the breast pocket. Next was a pair of his fashion staple, skinny jeans. These were soft and stretchy and fit to him like a second skin without being restricting.

This was another pair that was really more like leggings than jeans (once again, jeggings?). This was only time since his father's stay in the hospital that the slim boy was lad his father wasn't here to see him get dressed. He wasn't sure he'd be allowed out if Burt knew he was going to see his boyfriend in these pants…

He slipped on some ankle socks and a grey pair of Keds before striding over to the mirror for one last check. Well, he'd have to do. He grabbed his phone and leather shoulder bag before hustling up the stairs.

"Carole!" he called.

He heard a muffled "In here!" coming from the direction of the spare room. He stepped inside and saw that she had setup one of the spare TV's in the room so that his father would have something to do instead of pulling his non-existent hair out.

"I'm going to meet Sam and then we're going to that place I told you about earlier. I don't think I'll be out late."

She smiled happily before pulling him into a quick hug. "Have fun, honey."

"Thanks," he said, returning the gesture. "See you later."

He left Carole to her own devices and made his way to his car. He got in and sent Sam a text to let him know he was on his way. He flipped on the radio and smiled as Lady Gaga's _Born This Way_ came on. He belted out the lyrics until he caught a glimpse of his altered appearance in the rear view mirror.

No, he wasn't born that way.

* * *

Sam grinned manically as he crept into Blaine's room. He grabbed a pillow that had fallen on the floor with one hand, holding a cup of coffee in the other. Sure, he was going to violently awaken his friend in retribution for killing him whilst distracted, but he wasn't an asshole.

He raised the cushion over his head and brought it down on Blaine's back with a _thump_. His friend started and nearly fell off the bed in his haste to defend himself from his perceived attacker.

The curly haired boy faced him swiftly and groaned when he saw Sam's smirking face. "You're a terrible person," he grumbled, causing the blond to laugh gleefully. "And a sore loser. Now gimme that coffee and be gone."

Sam sketched a mocking bow and handed Blaine his coffee with a flourish. He stood around and gloated over his revenge until the shorter boy threw the pillow back at him.

"Don't you have a date to get ready for?"

"Yep," he replied cheerfully. "Bye now!"

Blaine just grumbled and buried his face in the fragrant steam of the hot caffeinated beverage.

Sam slipped out of the room and down the hallway until he reached his own. He breezed through his shower and dressed equally quick; deep green shorts and a navy tee with a light blue plaid shirt. He'd save his designated paint shirt for their next date there when he was less concerned about impressing his incredibly fashionable boyfriend.

He'd gotten Kurt's text about being on his way a few moments before he decided to go wake up his friend. He grabbed his wallet and various other belongings and walked downstairs to wait. He didn't have to wait long.

Less than ten minutes later he heard the sounds of Kurt's Navigator pull up in his driveway. R2-D2 ran to the window seat and leap up his tiny steps to peer out the window. When he noticed it was Kurt his stubby tail wagged frantically and he ran to the door in excitement.

"Traitor," Sam cooed. "Who's a little traitor?"

R2 paid him no mind a just yipped at the door as Kurt's shadow appeared on the curtain covered pane of the door. He rang the doorbell and Sam quickly answered the door. He took a breath to steel himself.

He wouldn't wince no matter what Kurt looked like. He wouldn't. He's simply hug him and kiss him on whatever looked the least sore before inviting him inside and assuring him he couldn't even tell the boy had been impaled by an inflated oval less than twenty-four hours ago.

As soon as he opened the door R2 darted out and pranced around Kurt's ankles. The other boy giggled and scooped up the puppy, cuddling him close. He looked up at Sam and gave him a small smile. "Hey."

"Hi," Sam replied, weak with relief. He pulled Kurt close and pecked him on his unaffected cheek. He stepped back and took in his boyfriend's appearance.

The makeup Kurt had surely used didn't cover everything but he imagined that without it Sam might be compelled to cancel their date so he could go kick Edison's ass and then Karofsky's for good measure. His nose was slightly swollen and he could tell Kurt was in pain because the boy's usually expressive face had lines of tension around his eyes and mouth.

He was brought out of his musings by Kurt's yelp of pain. R2 had managed to bop him in the face and the slender teen was now attempting to nuzzle the pup while keeping him well away from his face.

"Sorry," Sam said sheepishly.

Kurt just shrugged and looked at the grey puppy." He didn't do it on purpose; he just wanted to snuggle."

"What if I want to snuggle?" Sam teased.

Kurt moved into Sam's embrace, the puppy between them. The brunette teen laughed as R2 squirmed happily and looked up into Sam's face. "Hi," he repeated.

"Hey," replied Sam, angling his head and bestowing a gentle kiss to Kurt's lips. He pulled back and sighed as he felt the other boy tentatively lay his head on his chest.

"So," Sam said. "Promise this is the last time I ask. Are you sure you're up to going out?"

Kurt _tsked_ in exasperation before pulling back. "Samuel—" he broke off and narrowed his eyes before abruptly relaxing in bewilderment. "What _is_ your middle name?"

Sam chuckled. "It's Jordan."

"Well, Samuel Jordan Evans, I _promise_ I am well enough to go out today."

The blond held up his hands in surrender. "Just wanted to make sure, Kurt…" he trailed off significantly.

The fair boy tittered as he placed R2 back on the ground. "Elizabeth."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," he finished. "Well, then we best get going. I'm just gonna let Blaine know I'm leaving."

Kurt nodded and the muscular teen jogged up the stairs and knocked on Blaine's door before peeking his head in. He heard the shower running and walked over to the mostly-closed door.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving!" he called.

"'Kay! Have fun!"

"Thanks! See you later."

That being finished Sam left Blaine's room and patted his pockets as he walked downstairs. Yup, he had everything. If Kurt thought he was paying for this he had another thing coming.

He felt so guilty that _his_ boyfriend took a football to the face because he stayed to watch him practice. He knew Kurt hadn't even considered blaming him but still.

"Ready?" he asked as he descended the stairs.

Kurt had picked up R2 again and was pressing soft kisses to him floppy ears and chubby belly. Sam grinned mischievously and tilted his head in a canine fashion. "Should I be jealous of my own dog?"

The fair teen chuckled and placed the Frenchie on a couch cushion. "No," he said in amusement. "I've just never had a pet."

"Really?" Sam asked as he ushered the other teen out the door and into the Camaro.

"Really. I never really saw the appeal until now. Some of my friends had pets but I always hated them but I think it's because they, like, didn't train them? Or something. They just did what they wanted and what they wanted was to be all over me and scratch me or slobber on me or knock me over," he finished.

"Hmm," Sam grunted. Well, now he had the perfect present idea. He would just have to talk to Mr. Hummel first…

* * *

Kurt couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face as they walked in to the shop. It was bright and whimsical and reminded him of his Aunt Maggie's store. His face was sore but it was worth it.

There were tons of "bisques" all over the place; unglazed pieces of plain white pottery just waiting to be decorated. "This is so cool," he said, awed.

"I'm glad you like it!" Sam enthused. "I never get to go as often as I'd like because Blaine just flirts with the barista guy and if I come with Wes and David they just wreak havoc and are politely asked to leave."

The fair teen laughed and continued looking at all the things around him. He'd periodically peer closely at something that had caught his eye before turning back to Sam and beaming happily.

"There's a ton of stuff, all over, so take your time picking. Then we go up to the counter and let them know what we want."

Kurt nodded and ran his fingers over a ceramic treble clef. "Get it," Sam encouraged. The teens spent an enjoyable time just picking out the pieces they wanted to paint and laughing over some of the more eccentric pieces.

Kurt had settled on the treble clef from earlier, a tiny hippo that was flipped upside down with flower dangling off his foot, and a dainty looking tea cup. Sam had grabbed a more substantial mug, a ring holder (for his mother), and a tiny guitar.

They walked up to the counter and paid for their bisque and the woman wrote down the time since they charged by the hour. Sam also got them each a cappuccino and a cinnamon roll to share.

Kurt pouted when he realized he wasn't going to pay for this outing either. On the other hand, he was deeply flattered that he had a boyfriend that wanted to take care of him and had the means to do so. Financial and emotional securities are two major factors to consider when looking for a potential life partner, you know?

Not that that was something to consider in high school. Well, it was something to _consider,_ but, well. Kurt had no idea where he was trying to go with this so… yeah, never mind.

They placed their burdens on the table and laughed as they tied aprons around their waists and slid into the booth. A boy with jet black hair and an interesting tribal tattoo weaving down his arm placed the variety of glazes they'd chosen in front of them and told them to holler if they needed different colors.

The brunette teen took a big sip from his cappuccino and sighed contentedly. Sam smiled at him and snagged the little guitar and a brush. He dipped it into the red glaze and carefully attempted to coat the instrument.

"So," he began. "I'm really curious; why did you pick a hippo?"

The other boy smiled bashfully and selected said figurine to paint first. "Actually, they're my favorite animal."

"Really?" Sam asked, genuinely surprised. "I figured you for, like, a cat or a bird person."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's really the babies though. They're so cute and fat and I just… I dunno. They make me happy."

"That's adorable," Sam breathed.

"What's adorable?" he heard from behind him.

Sam was sure his expression must have been a cross between horror and dread because Kurt looked so perplexed it would have been funny if he wasn't busy freaking about the sudden appearance of the hooligan duo.

He slowly turned around and was met with the seemingly angelic faces of two of his best friends. Their smiling faces were perched atop their folded hands and they _knew_ exactly what they were doing.

And he knew exactly who was to blame. _Blaine_. This was surely payback for waking him up. Well, he'd deal with that later.

"Wes, David, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

"Oh, you know," David replied. "Just passing through. We saw your car and figured we'd say hello."

The boys stood up from their place behind him and came around to Kurt's side of the table. "Greetings," David said grandly. "I'm David Willaims and this is Wes Ling. We're Sam's incredibly handsome private school counterparts. You must be Kurt."

"Yes," Kurt replied, flushing. "Nice to meet you."

"Enchanted," Wes chimed.

Sam knew that he had nothing to fear from these to but their shark-like grins were unsettling nonetheless. Many girls had been on the receiving ends of those grins before suddenly being overcome by the desire to take off their pants.

Sam would really prefer if he was the only one Kurt took his pants off around. The pale teen looked to Sam for guidance and when none was forthcoming we became nervous and knocked over the pot of glaze he was using.

Luckily, it missed his hippo. Even more luckily (in Sam's eyes) it went all over David's hand resting (too damn) close to Kurt's own.

"Oh my gosh!" Kurt exclaimed. "I'm sorry! Here, there's a sink."

The jittery teen grabbed the dark-skinned boy and dragged him to the sink, apologizing all the while. He turned back and grinned to Sam cheekily. Yeah, they'd be having a chat later.

Before the blond could become agitated further he was floored by Wes' closing line of "You two will make cute gaybies" before he darted off and took his partner in crime with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Chapter nineteen! And only six days between updates! :P
> 
> I know there was no smut in this chapter after I'd promised their relationship was heating up but that's because I'm pretty sure that the next chapter is going to be one crazy-long smutfest. A sex riot, if you will :P
> 
> The plot got away from me in this chapter because Kurt wasn't even going to be at practice and the suddenly he was, and _oh look_ , there's a fictional football whizzing through the air.
> 
> Hope everyone liked the chapter! I'm getting on in the plot and I figured I'd ask my readers how you'd like to see it end. Please, let me know and I will do my best to take all ideas into consideration before I write :)


	20. Adrenaline

It was late afternoon and Kurt and Sam were making their way into the Evan's house. Even with the interruption for Wes and David the two boys had spent an enjoyable few hours painting and drinking fancy coffee.

Just as Sam remarked he was surprised he hadn't spilled anything on himself he moved his hand back and knocked over a big pot of white glaze, covering his shirt in the thick, opaque lacquer.

Kurt had been torn between laughing and crooning in sympathy and had ended up doing an adorable combination of both. After he'd cleaned up Sam as best he could the sheepish boy suggested they get out of there before he caused more damage.

Kurt conveniently didn't mention that he'd knocked over his own pot of glaze. If Sam had already forgotten, he was content to let his boyfriend think he was completely graceful and poised.

Sam sighed and pulled his shirt away from his waist to look at the stain in aggravation. Without a thought he stripped off his shirt and wandered into the laundry room, dousing the fabric in stain remover.

He wandered back into the entryway and saw Kurt's bemused look. Oh, right, shirtless.

"Whoops, habit," he explained.

"Do you get stains a lot?"

Sam nodded ruefully and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah." He looked out the veranda and noticed the clear sky, perfect pool weather. "Do you want to go swimming?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows and crossed his ankles. "I don't have a swimsuit and I'm pretty sure I'd swim in yours. No pun intended," he finished with a chuckle.

"I think I have one that'll fit you, from a summer or two ago. If not, it should have drawstrings so you can tighten it."

"Alright," Kurt agreed, following the flaxen haired boy up the stairs. "I haven't been swimming in a while. Months, probably."

Sam made an exaggerated face of horror before laughing. "That's terrible, really. I try as often as I can. I really lucked out; my parents love the water so we've always had a pool."

Kurt nodded and perched on the side of Sam's bed as the other boy rummaged around in his drawers, looking for a swimsuit that might fit Kurt's much smaller form without slipping right off. Not that Sam would mind.

He finally emerged from his closet, triumphant. He beamed happily and thrust the trunks at Kurt, urging him to change. Sam grabbed his own shorts and turned his back to the other boy, giving him privacy to change.

Sure, he and Kurt had fooled around a bit, but the intimacy was still new and he didn't want to rush things. What he had with Kurt was awesome and he didn't want to mess it up because he couldn't keep his eyes (or his hands) to himself.

He walked into his bathroom, eyes studiously on the floor, and grabbed two beach towels. He chanced a peek and noticed Kurt was folding his clothes and neatly piling them on the corner of the bed. "All set?" he asked.

"Do you have sunscreen?" Kurt asked ruefully. "I burn really easily…"

"Oh, of course! Um, downstairs though," Sam instructed, ushering Kurt out the door. "I only have SPF 15 and I don't think that'll help you. My mom has some stronger stuff on the veranda."

The two boys padded out onto the stone veranda and the blond teen grabbed a tube of SPF 50 and handed it to Kurt. He nodded gratefully and began to spread the thick lotion over his pale skin. "Help me with my back?" he asked.

Sam nodded and twirled his fingers, silently asking Kurt to turn around. He did and the tall teen was presented with miles and miles of pale, perfect skin. He rubbed the oily cream between his palms before smoothing it over the other boy's back.

He diligently rubbed in the sun block, strong fingers massaging the cream into his skin. He finished with one last, long swipe from the nape of Kurt's neck to the small of his back, fingers lingering on the dimples on either side of his spine.

"All done," he declared.

Kurt turned around and capped the sun block, placing it back on the ledge. "Thanks," he said softly.

Sam herded him towards the spiral staircase at the end of the porch, leading down to the swimming pool. He tossed their towels over two lounge chairs and walked over to the outside stereo system. He tuned into the local pop radio station before turning around and running towards the pool.

He breezed past Kurt and cannonballed into the deep end. He used his legs to push up from the bottom of the pool like a torpedo and breached the surface with and gasp and a splash. The water was just this side of cool and it felt amazing.

He _loved_ water. His mother had almost convinced him to join the swim team but when he learned he'd have to wear a Speedo and shave his legs he nixed that idea. That and the swim cap made him feel bald and gave him an uncomfortable view what his future hairless state might look like.

"Get in!" he shouted to Kurt. The other boy was looking at Sam in a mixture of amusement and affection.

"Sometimes you remind me of a little kid," he mused aloud as he walked over to the steps in the shallow end. He entered the pool in a more dignified state, sighing in bliss.

"Yeah," Sam said sheepishly. "Sorry."

"No!" Kurt exclaimed, slowly paddled towards the deep end. "I like it! But like, not in a creepy 'I like kids' way. Like, it's fun. You're fun."

"Oh," he said, blushing bashfully. "Well, thanks."

Kurt nodded ducked under the water, scrubbing at his face and hair, before sitting on the outcropping he found in the deep end, leaning back in to the wall and letting the jet massage away the tension in his shoulders. He sighed and rolled his shoulders eyes cracking open to watch Sam.

The boy's eyes were focused on him and his mouth was set in a tense line. Kurt blinked in confusion, patting his hair down self-consciously. "What is it?" he asked.

Sam remained silent for a moment before swimming closer, treading water in front of him. "You're makeup's coming off," he said simply.

"Oh," he said quietly, raising a hand to cover the side of his face he knew was covered in bruises. Sam caught his hand and held it underwater, taking a seat next to him on the underwater ledge.

"Don't," he requested. "You don't need to."

"I just hate looking like this," he explained.

Sam smiled and met his eyes. "You look beautiful."

Kurt's heart skipped a beat and he pressed the uninjured side of his face against Sam's shoulder. He suddenly chuckled and the tanned teen looked down at him in question.

"Just thinking about something Finn said last night," he said. "When he got home his mom was cooking dinner in the kitchen and I was icing my face on the couch. I took off the bag of peas I was using and asked him how I looked. He said 'Like a badass' before freaking out and saying that it looked _way_ better, even though he was totally lying and I looked way worse."

Sam laughed and swam forward again, pedaling on his back before going upright and looking at Kurt slyly. "You _do_ kinda look like a badass."

Kurt nodded and brushed a chip off his shoulder. "Noah Puckerman doesn't have anything on me."

He collapsed into a fit of giggles and pushed off the wall, swimming up next to the fair haired teen before tipping over and floating on his back. He closed his eyes and let himself drift in the water, hearing the tinkle of water being displaced as Sam did the same.

The tanned boy reached over and took Kurt's hand, the two of them wafting along the surface of the water. The soft, flowing movement of the water and the muffled sounds of the afternoon lulled him and his companion into a daze.

They drifted lazily, idly pushing away from the walls when they drifted over to them. Kurt slowly sunk under the surface as he accidently slipped into a light doze and flailed in a panic before surfacing.

He sputtered and blushed and caught his breath. He exhaled shakily and placed a hand over his racing heart. Sam had grabbed at him when he gone under but Kurt had lurched towards the shallow end to be able to stand on his feet while he choked and colored in embarrassment.

"Aww, baby," Sam crooned, wrapping his arms around him from behind. "What happened?"

Kurt sighed and turned in the circle of Sam's arms, draping his own over the boy's broad shoulders. "I guess I fell asleep," he admitted. "Again."

Sam looked at his, puzzled.

"I fell asleep in the tub this morning, too," he said. "I guess I just get really relaxed."

Sam's eyebrows rose in understanding as he pulled Kurt towards the deep end once more. He paused when the water was up to his chin, standing on the rapidly sloping floor while Kurt's strained to remain on his tip-toes.

The blond leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt's moist lips. He smiled and returned the brush of lips happily, feeling weightless and giddy. He wrapped his arms and legs around Sam tightly, feeling a bit like an octopus.

The blond chuckled into his mouth and deepened the kiss, mindful of Kurt's sore nose; no Eskimo kisses for a while. He pressed one last peck to his lips before pulling back, not wanting to start something when Blaine could be home any minute, judging from the sun's position in the sky.

Kurt looked up as well and squinted into the light. He looked back down and looked at his fingers. "I'm a raisin," he declared.

Sam chuckled. _A very cute raisin,_ he thought. "Wanna lie out in the sun for a while? It's really not that hot today."

Kurt nodded enthusiastically and relinquished his hold on the muscular teen and waded out of the water. He shivered as the gentle breeze washed over him and hustled over to his towel. "Brrr," he exclaimed.

Sam nodded, his own teeth chattering. The boys quickly scrubbed the water from their bodies and let the sun warm them before rearranging their towels on the lounger. Kurt stood up and gestured towards the stairs. "More sunscreen," he explained, a sheepish frown on his face.

"'Kay," Sam said, wriggling into warm cushion of the lounge chair before snapping his fingers and jumping up. He grabbed one of the big umbrellas folded up in the corner and fitted into the slot between their two chairs.

Kurt came back downstairs quickly and noticed the addition to the deck. "You didn't have to," he said softly.

Sam just shrugged and rolled onto his stomach lazily, face turned toward Kurt's chair. The slim teen sprawled onto the cream cushion and sighed in pleasure. The corners of his lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

"Just nudge me if I fall asleep again," he implored.

Sam closed his eyes and smiled, reaching over to poke Kurt's hand. "Hey, at least you can't drown this time."

* * *

Well, he'd put this off long enough. The dark haired boy had passed Sam and Kurt on their way back to the Evan's house and he was glad neither seemed to notice him.

He'd called Noah earlier and asked him if he had time to see him today. The mohawked teen had replied that he always had time to see someone as fine as him and hadn't done anything to quell Blaine's nerves. He didn't want to be just another pretty face, or whatever qualities Puck looked for in his potential partners.

He pulled into Puck's empty driveway and breathed deeply. Despite Sam's encouraging words, he was still worried to have this conversation. He stepped out of his car and slowly walked to Noah's door.

He rang the bell and was surprised when his sister answered the door. The other boy hadn't mentioned his sister would be home when he had spoken to him earlier.

"Hi, I'm Hannah!" she said enthusiastically. "Are you Noah's friend?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, smiling somewhat sadly. Seeing her made him miss his own sister. Elaine could be a terror, but she was _his_ terror.

Behind her he could hear a commotion of what could only be Noah Puckerman bounding down the stairs. He placed his hands on his sister's shoulders and steered his into the living room. "C'mon in, babe," he said distractedly.

He sat her down in front of a workbook and a basic calculator. "You're supposed to be doing homework, miss," he chided gently. "And we don't open the door if we don't know who it is, remember?"

Hannah tapped her head and nodded in remembrance. "Right." She took a big gulp of juice and focused on what Blaine assumed was her homework.

Puck turned to him, his grim lazy and dangerous. "Sorry," he rumbled. "I was upstairs cleaning up Hannah's kiddie-makeup explosion; purple lipstick _everywhere_."

He grabbed that dark haired teen's hand and pulled him into the kitchen and away from young, t impressionable eyes. Puck backed him into the counter and kissed him heatedly. When Blaine felt Noah's fingers skate along his backside he reluctantly broke the kiss and placed a restraining hand to his chest.

"Wait," he said. "I need to talk to you… and your sister is in the other room."

The mohawked boy sighed but pulled away, gesturing for Blaine to sit at the table. "Wanna drink?" he asked.

"Uh, no thanks," Blaine replied nervously.

Noah grabbed himself a root beer and slide into the seat across from him. "What's up?"

Blaine took a deep breath and just went for it. "I don't know if I can keep doing this," he said simply. "I know I said I was okay with what he had and that we didn't need to put a label on it and, at the time, I really thought I was."

He paused and looked up from where he was staring a hole in the table. Puck's face was uncharacteristically serious, unusually tight-lipped, so he kept going.

"I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for. I know that you just started to… be into guys, or whatever, and it's still new, and things at school are really rough for guys like me, but I can't do this and be a secret. And if that's not okay…I understand, but then we can't keep… doing this."

Noah opened his mouth and closed it soundlessly. He took a sip of his soda and placed it back on the table. "Okay."

Blaine narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Okay?"

"Okay," Puck repeated.

Blaine chewed his lips thoughtfully, his heart lurching hopefully in his chest. "Okay, I'm going to need a little more information than that; you're being really ambiguous. Do you mean 'okay, it's over' or 'okay, we can be together'?"

The muscled teen smirked and shook his head. "I mean, 'okay, you better be prepared for me to mack on you at school because I'm a stud and that's how I roll'."

"I…really?" Blaine said, taken aback. Even with Sam's reassurance he expected Puck to drop him like a bad habit. Then again, look who he was talking to.

Noah smiled- no bad-boy pretense, no false bravado- and stood, pulling Blaine into a hug. "Really."

Once again, he felt Noah's fingers slip into the back pockets of his jeans and watched as a devilish smirk spread over his visage. "So, can we make out now?"

* * *

Kurt was flitting back and forth in the kitchen, frantically stirring pots and chopping vegetables in between texting Sam. It was Sunday and his father was finally coming home.

After Sam had brought him home last night he had holed himself up in his room and diligently gone through the new cookbooks he'd picked up that were all about heart healthy diets. He'd flagged every recipe he thought his father might like and immediately made a grocery list.

He'd have to go to his Aunt Maggie's and get a ton of the ingredients. He'd be able to catch up with his favorite woman in the world and ensure his father ate the healthiest, freshest food possible, killing two birds with one stone.

That morning he'd loaded up his Navigator and spent nearly two hours in chatting with his aunt and purchasing so many organic, low-sodium soup bases he felt liquidy just thinking about it.

Finn wasn't going to be happy, but they were _all_ going on this damn diet. He wasn't going to tease his father by making him a "special" dinner while the rest of the family ate whatever they pleased.

No, if Finn wanted to stuff himself with pizza he was going to have to do it somewhere else. Or wait until Kurt mastered the heart healthy options.

He'd stopped by the grocery store to pick up the few things Maggie didn't carry, meats and fish and the like and a few more essentials. By the time he arrived home his Lincoln was filled to the brim with food and two brand new soup pots as well as a cast iron skillet.

His father had burned the last one beyond repair when he attempted to make a pot roast on his own. Bad things happened to good cookery when he wasn't in the kitchen supervising any and all of his father's culinary adventures.

Though, it would be a while before his father was well enough to cook on his own.

Since his father would still be weak for a while he'd decided to make a few different soups as well as a multi-grain bread that he'd found online. He was softening some veggies in the bottom of a pan and contemplating whether or not he could deviate from the recipe by adding turnips instead of potatoes when Finn lumbered into the kitchen.

It was well past noon but the lanky teen had clearly just woken up. Normally Kurt savored his time alone, especially Finn-less and in the kitchen, but he had a use for the tall boy today.

"Finn, good, you're up," he said briskly. "Sit, I made breakfast. Tell me if you like these."

He slid a plate of vegan pancakes (slightly improved since being served to Rachel), tofu bacon _and_ sausage, pure maple syrup, and fresh squeezed orange juice. He didn't bother telling the other boy how these items differed from his usual breakfast tale, not wanting to influence how he felt about the food before he even tried it.

He grimaced at the amount of syrup Finn poured over _everything_ but said nothing, he supposed that it was okay since everything was so healthy _and_ he'd listened to Maggie's new employee spout off the benefits of pure maple syrup for the better part of ten minutes. This time.

"Mmm," Finn said blearily. "S'great."

Kurt smiled and mentally patted himself on the back and went back to sautéing. He poured in a generous amount of vegetable stock and in and reread the recipe for whole wheat matzo balls.

He jumped when Finn appeared next to him, puting his plate in the sink and looking marginally more awake than he had twenty minutes ago. He peered into the various simmering pots and leaned against the counter.

"What're you makin'?" he asked, voice gruff.

Kurt sighed and stirred the pot once more before pushing the cookbook to the side to make room for matzo ball assembly. "Some things for when my dad comes home. He can't eat a lot of what he used to, so I'm trying to learn how to make new things, or make some of his favorites healthier."

Finn nodded somberly and looked to his dish resting in the sink. "Was that some of the new healthy stuff?" he asked, motioned towards the dishes with his head.

"Uh-huh," he replied. "Did you like them; be honest."

Finn nodded thoughtfully before doing so with more conviction. "The syrup was, like, really good, and so were the pancakes. I liked the sausage more than the bacon, but it wasn't bad. It kinda tastes like the stuff Rachel eats."

"It's like it; probably a different brand. There's a few options so I'll try another and see if it's better. Thanks for the help."

Finn chuckled. "Thank _you_ , man. All I did was eat."

Kurt huffed a laugh and couldn't help but remember that he never thought Finn and he would have such easy banter. Things were still a little weird between them, but they were slowly mending their bridges.

Suddenly, the tall boy turned serious and he folded himself back in his chair. "Are you excited for Burt to be coming back?" he asked.

"I wouldn't say excited… more like, so so relieved. I was… I was so worried."

Finn nodded seriously and drained his cup. "Me too," he admitted quietly. "I already lost one dad I can't even remember."

Kurt abruptly turned around and swiped at his watery eyes, wincing when he encountered the sore flesh of his nose and slightly-swollen eye. "He'll be okay," he said adamantly. "He'll be okay. But you have to help me keep him that way. No more pizza during the games, no more nachos or grease-burgers or anything along those lines. Not until he's way better and I can make a healthy version, 'kay?"

"Okay," he replied. He looked over at Kurt's various cooking endeavors. "Do you need any help?"

Kurt smiled and turned towards his cooking. "No, I'm just about done with this. If you want, you could go set up the TV Carole bought for where my dad is going to be until he's well enough for the stairs. You're supposed to be able to mount it on the wall but…" he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"Sure," Finn agreed readily. "I helped Puck put his up so I know how." The lanky teen stood and stretched before disappearing down the hall.

Kurt felt a watery smiled spread across his lips, pleased that his little rag-tag family was finally getting along. It was everything he'd wanted but more than he'd hoped, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

He looked over the recipe one last time before rolling up his sleeves and tightening his apron. This was the first time he'd attempted to make matzo balls so he hoped they turned out alright. He knew that his grandmother used to make this for his dad all the time but it had been years since they had spoken and even longer still since he'd had her cooking.

Before he could begin measuring his phone went off. Sam. The Dixie Chicks _Cowboy, Take Me Away_ played quietly from the end of the counter. Sure, the song was as county as country could be, and yes, it was for a girl, but he could relate otherwise.

He'd sure love to be only person for miles and miles with Sam and his simple smile. Besides, he thought it was time he embraced the blonde's Southern roots since they had dome so much to produce an amazing guy.

He grabbed his phone and checked the message.

_How goes the cooking?_

_Almost done :)_ he replied. He couldn't wait to be finished. Standing over boiling pots and sautéing veggies all day made his skin feel slick and unpleasant and he really wanted to take a shower before his father came home.

He placed his phone out of the way again and began whipping the egg whites together. Soon the mixture had come together and needed to rest in the fridge for twenty minutes.

He checked on the soup and made sure it was on a gentle simmer. Satisfied that nothing would over-boil or catch on fire he flitted downstairs and took the fastest shower he'd ever taken.

He plopped himself down in front of his vanity with a sigh. He turned his face this way and that and decided to forgo the makeup. He would only be in front of his family and he really didn't have the patience to apply layer after layer or concealer and foundation to his face.

He settled for rubbing the Vitamin E cream over his face and grimaced at the thick, cloying smell. He hadn't been applying any of his normal lotions and potions because he was concerned they may interfere with the Vitamin E cream's efficacy.

He quickly towel dried his hair and dressed in a pair of grey yoga pants and a rich yellow shirt he'd found in American Eagle. He wasn't usually one for mall brands but there was something to be said for the simplicity of a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He would always go by what was flattering, be it a pair of jeans from the Hollister or a fitted pair of corduroy slacks from Dior's latest collection.

He emerged from his basement feeling refreshed and optimistic. Yes, this was going to be a good thing. Everyone would eat healthier, therefore everyone would be healthier.

And maybe Kurt's could lose those last pesky pounds he'd gained over summer break. He knew how his boyfriend _and_ his father _and_ most of his friends felt, that he was too skinny, but Kurt could still feel that lingering softness in his abdomen.

His dad called it baby fat; he just called it regular ol' fat. He wasn't going to pull a Mary-Kate or anything, but he'd like to be trimmer. He vowed to increase his yoga exercises and maybe even start running.

He could always ask Sam for advice; the other boy was quite the athlete and was sure to have some ideas.

He grabbed the matzo mix out of the fridge and shaped them as directed before delicately placing them in a pot of boiling water along with a peeled carrot, celery, and half an onion. He smiled as he waited for the matzo balls to solidify and leaned against the counter contentedly.

Sometimes, he even amazed himself. He washed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He'd made three soups (veggie and matzo, beef barley, and chicken with whole wheat noodles), multi-grain bread, and a healthy country pear tart with almonds and sprinkling of brown sugar for dessert.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and gently removed the cooked matzo balls from the boiling water and deposited them directly into the soup. He grabbed the last Tupperware container he'd bought for large volume leftovers and placed it on the counter, ready for the last soup.

He heard a door close in the driveway and scurried over to the kitchen window. He pushed aside he curtains and saw Carole hurrying around the car to help his father out of the passenger side.

He squeaked and frantically looked around the kitchen, pushing in chairs before running down the hall. He skidded into the spare bedroom to find Finn cleaning up the various bits and pieces of trash from unpacking and installing the TV.

"Dad's home," he panted.

Finn jammed the pieces of styrofoam into the box and followed Kurt down the hall, pausing near the garage door and throwing the box of trash into the darkness.

The two boys ran to the door a just as Carole was shouldering it open, helping Burt Hummel home again. Kurt darted forward and clutched his father like he never wanted to let go, like a little boy that hadn't seen his dad in _days._

" _Daddy_ ," he choked out, burying his face in his dad's strong shoulder.

"I know, Bambi," he whispered. "I know."

* * *

Monday morning dawned and all was well in Kurt Hummel's world. His father was home, sleeping soundly above him, and he woke up to a text from his boyfriend.

_Good morning :)_

Kurt responded in kind and stretched happily. He shoved his blankets down with his feet and stood up. He quickly made his bed and walked over to his iPod dock and pressed play. He'd set up his morning playlist last night and smiled the sounds of Wham!'s _Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go_ greeted him.

He quickly hopped in the shower and cleansed and groomed and exfoliated in record time. His good mood wasn't even damped by the sight of the mottled bruises still decorating his face and shoulder.

He rubbed on the newly dubbed "bruise cream" and decided to forgo the makeup. He hoped that people saw what happened to him and maybe woke up from their homophobic stupor. It was unlikely, but people became uncomfortable when they were confronted with the physical evidence of their stupidity and ignorance.

Feeling rebellious and working with the whole "badass" thing, Kurt decided to go for a different look today. He pulled on a pair of grey skinny jeans (okay, not _that_ different, but you can't ask a tiger to change its stripes) and decided to go without a belt.

He thumbed through his graphic tees, staggered by the amount he'd acquired over the years as misguided gifts of complete jokes. He settled on a light black (dark grey?) shirt that clung to him in all the right places _and_ had the Autobots insignia emblazoned on the chest.

This shirt was from Artie, since he knew his weakness for amazing cars and _Transformers_ was filled with them. He was surprised his friend hadn't teased him shamelessly about the fact that he was dating a kid that was driving Bumblebee.

Then again, maybe he didn't know. Sam's car _was_ broken for the majority of football camp and they usually came in Blaine's Mercedes.

He slipped into a pair of socks and pulled on a pair of red and white canvas sneakers. He stepped in front of the mirror and raised eyebrows in surprise. He didn't look mundane or gay-trying-to-be-butch ( _never_ again) and was pleasantly surprised.

Unable to resist, he added a flimsy white scarf with a delicate denim-blue paisley pattern. He smiled, happy with the result, and gathered his homework from his desk. He scooped up his phone and made his way upstairs.

He grabbed some of the pancakes he'd made yesterday and microwaved them before savoring the surprisingly moist cakes with a bit of syrup. The doorbell rang and he hurriedly wiped his mouth and jogged to the front of the house.

His Aunt Maggie stood on the front steps, bright and smiling. He unlocked the door and threw it open.

"Aunt Maggie!" he exclaimed. He found himself surrounded by her familiar embrace and he held on for a moment longer than usual.

"Hey, sugar! Look at you with the black eye! Very James Dean."

Had he mentioned that he really, _really_ loved this woman? He'd told her all about his close encounter with the jock kind. She'd ranted and raved and cooed over him but now it was over and she just had a way of making him feel so much better about himself.

It could be the fact that she compared him to James Dean in a most flattering way, but still. He ushered her in and closed the door behind her. She wandered into the kitchen and Kurt poured her a cup of coffee before fixing it just the way she liked it; sugary sweet and just a drop of cream.

She sat at the table and joined him as he ate his breakfast. He declined his offer to make her something and opted to chat with him instead.

"I'm happy you're able to look after Dad today," he said.

"Psh," she said dismissively. "I'm glad to. It's been too long and it's a crying shame that it took something like this for us all to see more of each other."

Kurt nodded in agreement and jumped as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug it out of his pocket and saw that it was a text from Sam, asking him if he'd like a cup of coffee since he and Blaine had stopped at The Lima Bean.

He replied with a grateful yes and relayed his order before focusing back on his Aunt Maggie. She had a sly grin on her face and was look down her nose at him, cat-eye glasses daintily perched on the end.

"Was that the blond morsel that came into the store with you?"

He flushed guiltily and nodded, trying to hide behind his glass of orange juice.

"And when do I get to meet this boy in the official capacity as the Aunt of the boy he's dating?"

"Um, soon?" he offered.

"Mmhmm," she replied, sipping from her cup. This morning, coffee had the distinct taste of victory.

He made a show of putting his plate in to the sink and scampered into the hallway and to his father's room. He pushed open the door and peeked in, noticing his father was still asleep. He scribbled a quick not ( _I love you, see you later)_ and pecked him on the cheek.

Kurt walked into the kitchen and shouldered his bag and looked at his aunt. "There's tons of food in the fridge; it just needs to be reheated. I don't have glee today so I'll be home as soon as school is out."

She nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he walked out the door. Shockingly, Finn's car was already gone, signaling the boy had already left for school. He slid into his own car and made his way to school.

He pulled into the parking lot and spotted Sam leaning against the back of Blaine's Mercedes, talking to the other boy. Kurt pulled into one of the spots next to him and killed the engine. He hopped out and made sure he had all his belongs before locking up his baby.

He turned around to find his way blocked by a wall of solid blond muscle. He smiled and took the coffee Sam offered him as well as the hug. He pulled back and smiled into the kiss the tanned teen pressed to his mouth.

"Hey," Sam greeted. He stepped back and took in Kurt's outfit. "You look… great."

The fair teen smiled through the soreness and toyed with the edge of his artfully looped scarf. "Thanks."

Sam nodded and continued to let his eyes roam over his boyfriend's form. Maybe Kurt was onto something with the low-key thing.

"I like your shirt," he complimented with a grin. "I shoulda brought my car."

Kurt felt his cheeks color involuntarily and he took a sip of his coffee while he followed Sam around the car to where Blaine was sitting on the back of his own. The dark haired boy's eyes widened when he saw Kurt's face and the slender teen had a moment to reconsider his decision not to wear makeup.

Then the shorter boy smiled and cocked his head to the side. "Sam was right; you do look like a badass."

Kurt laughed and was glad he hadn't been drinking when Blaine had said that. He regained his composure and kicked and the ground playfully. "Shucks, you two sure know how to flatter a boy."

They all laughed and lingered around their cars, happy to prolong the morning. Moments later Noah Puckerman's truck ambled into the lot and pulled in on the opposite side of the Mercedes S Class.

He hopped out of his truck and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He walked over to the group of boys congregating around the back of Blaine's car and gave a choppy wave in greeting.

He strode over to Blaine and bent down to press an, ahem, enthusiastic kiss to the other boy's lips. Kurt's eyebrows rose in surprise and he glanced toward Sam for an explanation. He knew the two were together in some fashion, but this public display of affection (lots and lots of affection) was unexpected.

The blond teen mouthed "later" and Kurt nodded minutely before smiling politely at Blaine's besotted face. Puck focused on the unusually-casual Kurt and gave and exaggerated double take before holding his fist up for a bro-bump. Kurt laughingly obliged and shook his head in amusement.

The mohawked teen nodded in approval and leaned against the shiny black exterior of the Mercedes. "Lookin' good, Hummel."

* * *

Sam grimaced as he looked at his locker. Yeah, okay, he should have seen this coming. The word _FAIRY_ was painted on the metal door in big, glittering red letters.

He was glad that Kurt had needed to speak to his French teacher and left him to go to his locker by himself. Honestly, he wasn't hurt or offended or any of that other stuff; he was just annoyed. And kind of disappointed.

This is what they came up with? Really?

Beside him he heard an outraged scoff. Tina appeared next to him, resplendent in maroon lace and spider web stockings and face clouded with anger.

"Don't worry about it. I can see the janitor making his way down the hall; I'm sure it'll be gone by second hour," he said to the Asian girl.

"Still," she said. "It's not right. And _really_ lame."

He nodded in agreement before shaking his head. "You think there's any chance that Kurt's won't hear about this?"

Tina sighed and shook her head regrettably. "Not at all. He probably already knows and if he doesn't, Mercedes'll probably tell him in the next five minutes. And if she doesn't you, you should."

"Yeah, I know," he said, resigned. Kurt was going to be so upset.

Tina patted him on the arm before she joined the throng and bustled to her first class. He opened his locked, frowning distastefully, and grabbed what he needed for AP History. He walked into class to find Artie already at their table.

The wheelchair bound boy had been at practice Friday (Battering ram? Best idea ever!), so he knew all about Kurt getting up close and personal with a pigskin. He took his seat and exhaled, smothering his face in the coarse surface of his backpack.

He turned his face and saw his new friend struggling with his facial expressions, unable to decide if he should be amused by Sam's attempts to smother himself with a backpack or solemn in regards to Kurt. And maybe his locker.

"Saw Kurt this morning," he said, unconsciously clarifying things for the blond teen. "Not trying to downplay things, but it's way better than I expected."

Sam sat up straight and shook his head emphatically. "Yeah. I also think it's 'cause he's so pale, s'why it looks so bad to begin with."

Artie nodded and looked at him thoughtfully. "Something else wrong?" he asked observantly.

"Eh," he began. "Yeah. I'm not upset about it, but I know Kurt will be."

The bespectacled boy looked at him expectantly and cocked his head to the side in inquiry.

"Someone wrote something on my locker. I think we can both guess who," he deadpanned.

Artie rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "What'd they write?"

Sam laughed ruefully. "Fairy."

"How creative. I wonder if they did it to Puck too?"

"I didn't even think of that," the blond boy admitted. "But maybe not, I'm the new guy. And Puck is kinda scary."

Artie laughed and nodded. "Still, stupidity knows no bounds."

Before the two teens could banter further Dr. Gaven cleared his throat and tapped a dry-erase marker against the board. "Colonies," he said. "Today we're going to focus on colonies and those that founded them."

Despite his locker fiasco Sam was able to focus on class. He was glad to have the distraction, since next hour he shared English with Kurt the slim teen was sure to be upset. He wished he could just not tell him but withholding information was tantamount to lying and he wasn't going to have that in his relationship.

Class ended and the blond was glad to see he was ahead in the reading. Last night he'd lost track of time and he'd read two chapters in advance. He gathered up his materials and waved goodbye to Artie.

He stopped at his locker to drop off the heavy textbook and noticed that the slur had already been scrubbed off the metallic surface. Well, at least it hadn't been in permanent marker.

He grabbed his English notebook and _The Great Gatsby_ and headed off to class. He arrived before Kurt and took a seat at the back of class, as usual. He passed Azimio and Dunham and rolled his eyes at their delighted sniggers.

Gee, wonder who did it?

He slid into a desk and dug out the bottle of water he'd tossed in his bag that morning. Kurt breezed into the room and glared for all he was worth at the jocks as he passed before taking his seat next to Sam.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, his face alight with concern and aggravation.

"I'm guessing you heard?"

Kurt nodded and reached over hesitantly, covering Sam's had with his own.

"I was going to tell you, but Dr. Gaven walked in before I could." the blond began. "I'm not upset, really. It's just annoying."

Kurt sighed and looked at his bag. "I feel like this is my fault."

"No," Sam said in an adamant whisper. "It's not. Don't blame yourself because a few jocks figured out how to use a paintbrush. Besides, fairy? That was the best they could come up with?"

The last comment had its intended effect, making the fair boy chuckle. "They wrote on Puck's locker too," he confided.

"Same thing?"

"Princess."

Sam snorted his water and glared at Kurt playfully. "You did that on purpose."

The pale teen just shrugged and dug through his satchel before pulling out a small mirror. He held up the magnified side and examined his eye. He pursed his lips in frustration and put the mirror away. He turned to Sam and smiled self-depreciatingly. "I keep hoping that one time I'll look and it'll be gone," he confided.

"It _is_ getting better, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better."

Kurt nodded emphatically. "It is. It looks so much better than it did on Friday."

"Maybe you should try Puck's method," he teased.

Kurt laughed and shook his head. "I've actually thought about it," he admitted. "I looked it up online and people _swear_ by it but I'm supposed to put it on overnight and cover it with something and I have _no_ idea how I'd pull that off without getting chocolate over everything I own."

Sam worried his lips in thought. "Maybe you could make, like, one of those masques, and just leave it on for a few hours."

"It's worth trying," Kurt said with a shrug.

Mrs. O'Leary stood from behind her desk and waited until she had the attention of everyone in the room. She tapped a stack of freshly printed papers against the first student's desk. "Quiz," she said simply.

The room was filled with groans while everyone grudgingly cleared their desk and frantically tried to recall details about the chapters they'd been assigned.

The rest of the day went by without incident. Sam and Kurt went about their classes and their friends were all sufficiently outraged with Kurt's incident with the football team and the insults on Puck and Sam's lockers.

The final bell rang, signaling the end if the school day and the tired students flooded out of William McKinley. Kurt lingered at his locker, checking and double-checking his satchel to make sure he had all the things he needed to do his homework.

Sam came over, his sweet smile lighting up the hall. "Hey," he said. "Headed straight home?"

Kurt nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I'm anxious to see my dad and I hope I can convince my Aunt Maggie to stay for dinner."

Sam nodded before sighing and gesturing towards the locker room. "I gotta go change. Today's practice should be… interesting."

The slender boy nodded sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder. Sam shrugged and leaned forward, kissing Kurt quickly before hustling down the hall and into the locker room. He waved to Finn as he walked out in to the parking lot.

He saw Blaine putting his bag in the trunk of the car. "Hey," he called.

The dark haired teen turned to him waved. Kurt came to a stop behind his own car, tossing his satchel in the trunk. He leaned against the closed hatch and looked at Blaine inquiringly.

"What do you do on the days Sam has practice? "

Blaine shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind. I usually just go get a coffee and get some homework done."

Kurt nodded in understanding. "You know," he began. "Once things are more settled with my dad, you could always come over if you wanted the company. I don't live very far so you could make it back in time to get Sam."

The shorter teen beamed at him and caught him in a quick hug. "Thanks! I'll definitely take you up on that offer."

Then Blaine hopped into his car and pulled away, waving as he passed. Kurt returned the gesture and walked around the front of his car, fumbling with his keys.

Suddenly, the jangling bunch of keys were knocked form his hands and skidded under his Navigator. He looked up, startled, and encounter Michael Edison; the kicker that had aimed the field goal at his face.

"Hey, Hummel," he said venomously. "Nice face."

Kurt raised his chin defiantly and met the football player's gaze. "What do want, Michael?"

"I _want_ to be able to play foot ball but you and you're fucking boyfriend ruined that for me!"

Kurt scoffed. " _You_ ruined that for yourself when you decided it would be an awesome idea to kick a football at me in front of Coach Beiste."

The enraged boy jabbed a finger in Kurt chest, making him stumble back a step. "Well if you weren't such a _pansy_ about it I wouldn't have gotten suspended!"

"Yes, because it's my fault my nose bled," he retorted. Kurt had had just about enough of this. He felt his limbs begin to shake from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Last time I checked, that was a normal reaction when one is hit in the face by swiftly moving projectile!"

"You're gonna get hit in the face with another projectile if you don't watch your attitude, faggot. You're fairy boyfriend isn't here to protect you this time."

Unable to prevent himself, Kurt laughed maliciously. "It's funny that you had to wait until my 'fairy' of a boyfriend wasn't around before you were brave enough to confront me."

Years of dance and yoga had honed his reflexes so avoiding the wild swing from the other boy was easy. He side stepped the swing and inwardly crowed in satisfaction as Edison's fist connected with the unforgiving surface of his Lincoln Navigator.

Before the boy could regroup and attack Kurt again, the slender teen took his own swing at the foolish jock. His blow landed squarely in Edison's eye and Kurt felt a perverse satisfaction upon hearing the deafening _thud_ when his fist collided with his thick skull.

The boy cried out and fell to the dusty ground, clutching his face. Kurt bent down and snatched up his keys and unlocked his door with shaking fingers. He put his foot on the rail and turned to the disgraced football player.

"Who's the pansy _now_ ," he spat before climbing into his car and speeding home. He skidded to a stop in his driveway and stomped into the house like a man possessed. Kurt had never been in a fight before so he had no idea what the protocol was after you'd kicked someone's ass.

Was it normal to feel this… invigorated? Vindicated? Was the fine tremor in wracking his entire body a normal response? He tossed his keys onto the entryway table with more force than necessary and breezed into the living room, pausing when he was his father, Aunt Maggie, and Carole staring at him in surprise.

"Kurt!" Carole exclaimed! "What happened to your hand?"

He narrowed his eyes in confusion before holding up his hand for inspection. The knuckles were all red and swollen and it looked the like skin had split in a few places, speckles of blood dotting the bruising flesh.

 _Perfect,_ he thought. _Another bruise._

"Honey," Carole said again, closer this time, her face heavy with concern.

"I punched a football player in the face," he said, voice gruff and trembling.

Burt slowly lowered the cup of tea he was sipping (decaf) to the table before pointing an unsteady finger at his son. "That's my boy."


	21. Come What May

Kurt's night was not going how he'd planned. Instead of eating a relaxing dinner with his family and worrying about his father he was seated next to him on the couch, a bag of frozen corn over his hand while his father and Carole "discussed" his father's reaction to Kurt fighting.

Although Carole agreed that the little punk had it coming, she didn't agree that they should encourage violence. Kurt just wanted everyone to shut up so the pounding in his head would just go away.

After the adrenaline faded the small teen felt sore all over and a bone-deep weariness seeped into his veins. He closed his eyes and took the bag of corn form his hand and placed it on top of his head. He felt the couch next to him dip as someone sat beside him.

He cracked his eyes opened and saw his Aunt Maggie grinning and offering him a bowl of the matzo ball soup he'd made just the day before.

"Here, honey," she said with a chuckle. She rustled through her purse and handed him two Advil and a pat on his uninjured shoulder.

He took the pills and soup gratefully. "Thanks, Auntie Margaret."

She ran her fingers over his cheek and took the now-defrosted bag of corn off his head. "Let me get you a Diet Coke, sugar. You look like you could use one."

Boy, could he ever. Finn was due home any moment and he was dreading what may have happened at practice after his confrontation with Edison.

He finished his soup and sipped his Diet Coke slowly. The carbonation was doing wonders for settling his stomach and he was just starting to relax as Finn walked in the door. His heart started pounding and leapt into his throat.

The lanky teen came through the living room and smiled at Kurt tiredly before stepping into the kitchen. He turned around and looked at Kurt in confusion. He picked his way around blankets and various bits of medical supplies and carefully perched his sweaty form on the side of the couch.

"What are my mom and Burt arguing about?" he asked quietly.

Kurt narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Me," he said, raising his hand up into view.

"Dude!" Finn exclaimed, Kurt visibly wincing, partly from his headache and the fact that he is not, not will he ever be, a dude. "What happened to your hand?"

"Did… Edison come to practice today?" he asked slowly.

Finn shook his head. "No, he never showed up. The rest of the guys he's friends with were all pissed off, since Coach Beiste made them do extra laps and he wasn't there to suffer with them, or whatever. But what does that have to do with your hand?"

Strangely, he wished the moody jock had shown up to practice, if only so he didn't have to explain how he lost his temper and punched someone in the face. Especially since this was probably all going to blow up in _his_ face tomorrow at school.

And he still had to tell Sam.

He took a deep breath and recounted the events that happened outside his Navigator. He had the sudden urge to go run to Emmy and check her for damage. She was a resilient gal, but still.

Finn's reaction was vastly different that his mother's. "Awesome, man!" he exclaimed, holding his fist up for a bro-bump. Kurt chuckled under his breath and obliged, using his uninjured fist to lightly tap against his soon-to-be-stepbrother's.

He dropped his fist to his lap and sighed, collapsing backwards against the couch. "We'll see how awesome it is tomorrow… I should probably wear something I'm not that attached to."

"You really think you'll get slushied?" Finn asked, uncharacteristically gentle.

Kurt sighed again, quiet this time, and nodded. "Yeah."

Before the two could delve further into Kurt's possible demise Carole and Burt walked back into the living room. His father was leaning heavily against his wife's shoulder before he sank gratefully into his armchair.

"Kurt, as much as I hate the guys that taunt you, and we all agree he got what he had coming to him, fighting is wrong," he parroted, clearly repeating Carole's own words.

If she hadn't been home when he'd made his announcement it would have gone something like "That's my boy. Nobody pushes the Hummel's around. Remember not to tuck your thumb in or you might break it."

Since she was, Kurt merely nodded in understanding and promised to be more careful. He wasn't sure how being more careful was going to help the situation any. Be more careful for not get beat up? Be more careful to avoid small-minded jocks and their testosterone and ignorance fueled literal gay-bashing?

Feigning exhausting, he excused himself. He patted Finn on the shoulder as he left and gave everyone else a peck on the cheek, saving his father for last. They shared a secret smile and Burt whispered "Proud of you, Bambi."

The slender teen smiled and winked at his father before descending the stairs. Truthfully, he was a bit worn out and wanted nothing more than to take a bath, maybe have a quick wank, and go to sleep.

After he called Sam.

He didn't imagine that the other boy was going to be pleased but he had to tell him. He couldn't believe that one moment he's talking to Blaine, forging a closer friendship with his boyfriend's best friend, and the next he's in the middle of a common schoolyard brawl.

Instead of his original plans he settled for changing into his pajamas and indulging in some serious skin care. Sam would probably just be getting home now and then eating dinner with his family and he didn't want to interrupt.

He exhaled in relief as he felt his beloved moisturizers seeping into his pores and righting all the wrongs that had happened in the past few days.

He decided to skip the bruise cream for one night in lieu of not wanting to become one singular breakout. He could just feel his skin getting oily and blemishes festering under the surface. _Blech!_

Finally finished, he threw himself into bed with a groan. So much for that wank. He was too tired _and_ he'd punched Edison is his thick skull with his right hand. He flexed his fingers regretfully and blindly groped for his phone.

 _Well, at least_ something _is getting a grope_ , he thought ruefully.

He finally found his phone and noticed that it was nearly 8:30. He pressed Sam's speed dial and closed his eyes as he waited for the other boy to pick up.

"' _Lo?"_ Sam answered, sounding muffled.

"Hello?" Kurt responded uncertainly. "Is this a bad time?"

He heard some throat clearing before Sam answered, sounding much clearer. " _No, sorry, I was eating Doritos. How are you?"_

He sighed. He was doing that a lot lately. "Um, I'm fine. I just… need to tell you something."

" _Something bad?"_

"Kinda," Kurt replied hesitantly. "I… got into a fight."

" _What?"_ Sam exclaimed. " _Are you okay? Who was it? Was it Karofsky?"_

Kurt had to suppress a giggle. Sam's concern was just so cute. And heartwarming. "I'm okay. And it was Edison."

There was a pause before Sam came back on the line. _"Did he hit you?"_ he asked dangerously.

"No," Kurt said quickly. "But he tried. I, um, I actually hit him."

" _Really?"_ the blond replied. Kurt could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, really. I hit him and then I drove away before he could get up."

" _You knocked him down?"_ Sam asked, impressed.

"Uh, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. Why did he have the feeling that this was strangely attractive to his boyfriend?

" _Uh, because it is?"_

"Shoot!" Kurt exclaimed. "I didn't mean to say that!"

Sam laughed happily, trailing off into a hum. Kurt exhaled shakily, feeling a blush cover his cheeks.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you because I heard he didn't show up for practice and I don't know if he's going to try to start trouble tomorrow."

" _Is there a reason there might be trouble?"_

"Sam!" he said in exasperation. "I punched a football player in the face and called him a pansy! What about that isn't going to cause trouble?"

" _You called him a pansy?"_ he asked gleefully.

Kurt groaned in embarrassment. "You're enjoying this far too much," he accused.

" _Heck yes, I am! I always thought_ I _would be the one getting into a fight over our relationship."_

Kurt's heart melted a tiny, little bit. "You were going to fight for us to be together?"

" _Well, yeah,"_ Sam replied. Kurt could hear the blush in his voice. " _I kinda like you. Whole bunches."_

"Oh, Sam…"

" _Yeah yeah. Underneath my muscley exterior lies a great big softy."_

"I like it," he whispered. "I like _you_."

" _Thanks, baby."_

Kurt giggled quietly at the endearment. He wished he didn't feel so silly calling Sam pet names in return. What was he supposed to call him? His six foot tall, tanned, blond, stunning boyfriend wasn't anyone's _baby_.

Well, he'd just have to think on it.

"How was practice?" he asked.

" _Fine,_ " Sam said, sounding surprised. " _I was sure that there was going to be hell to pay, but Coach Beiste is all over them. She's so mad. Oh! And that Cheerio coach was back. They were practicing next to us and she made Quinn cry._ "

Kurt had to stifle his groan of dread. He wondered how long it would be before she was trying to destroy glee club again. That, or make him join. He knew she wanted vocals back on her squad but wasn't willing to sacrifice any of the glee Cheerios' acrobatics for a vocal performance.

"Watch out for her," he cautioned.

" _Yeah, from what I've heard, I'll steer clear."_

Then Kurt yawned into the receiver. "Sorry! I just feel so tired."

" _Yeah, fighting'll do that to you. Wish I didn't know that,"_ he admitted.

"Get into a lot of fights," he asked gently.

" _Not a lot,"_ Sam said. " _Some, though. Um, kids used to pick on Blaine. A lot."_

Kurt frowned. He really hated kids sometimes. Luckily, the kids on his street had usually been too scared to _really_ physically pick on him close to home. It happened once, when he was nine or ten, but the boy who did it must have spread the word that Burt Hummel will mess up your day if he saw you pick on his son.

His father had marched the boy home by the ear, Kurt at his side, and made the boy explain why Kurt had the giant shovel mark on his face. The parent's had been suitable outraged Kurt could see that boy mowing the lawn every three days, weeding, and washing his parent's cars for a month.

"Well," Kurt said, getting back on track. "I hate to cut this short, but I want to get my rest. You know, in case things go poorly."

" _Okay, baby. Sleep well."_

"Thanks," he whispered. "You too. See you tomorrow."

" _See you tomorrow."_ And then the line went dead.

Kurt reached for the charger and plugged in his iPhone. He rolled onto his stomach and stared at his screen. A sheepish, glaze covered Sam illuminated the dark room. Kurt had snapped a picture of him washing his _entire self_ at the sink, a tiny bit of glaze smeared on his cheek and on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing one of the Color Me Mine aprons and he'd never looked better.

Regardless of what tomorrow would bring, at least he'd get to see Sam.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sam was staring at his phone calendar. The date marked in bright yellow was swiftly approaching and he was trying to think of what he should do.

It was going to be their one month anniversary and Sam wanted to do something nice. Not something opulent and over the top, that was Blaine's area of expertise. He just wanted to do something that said this month was kinda the best month ever and he hoped that they had a bunch more together.

No, he'd save the extravagance for their six month anniversary.

After talking with Kurt, he was in love with the idea of getting Kurt a pet. Not a dog, he didn't think that was wise. They tended to be needy and squirmy and clumsy and he really didn't want his present to Kurt to be responsible for knocking Mr. Hummel down or something equally tragic.

No, he was thinking a cat. And as much as the slim boy seemed to adore R2, Kurt totally seemed like a cat person. They were quiet and sassy and smart and sometimes downright beautiful. Just like Kurt, minus the sometimes. He was always beautiful.

Now, all he had to do was ask Burt.

Sam's mind wandered and landed on Edison. _Edison._ That prick. How much of a coward did someone have to be to go after Kurt?

 _Kurt;_ with his slender form and his sweet nature. And apparently, that was something new because he'd been warned by numerous New Directions members about Kurt's sharp tongue and short temper but had yet to see it.

He wanted to wring that kicker's neck. He went after Kurt when he was sure that Sam would be at practice, unable to come to his aid.

 _Well, not that I needed to,_ he thought with satisfaction. He liked that Kurt could take care of himself. Sure, he wanted to take care of things _for_ Kurt, but he would never force Kurt into a role he didn't want. It seemed his boyfriend wasn't content to play damsel in distress and that made Sam's heart pound happily.

He was worried that his relationships with guys would always be like that you see one TV: the "guy" and the "girl". No, he was dating a boy because he _liked_ boys. If he wanted to be with a girl, he'd date a girl.

And we all know how well dating girls went, don't we?

He chuckled as he thought of Kurt, his little ruffian. He looked like a regular brawler now, with his black eye and bruised had.

He hoped that Edison got hell tomorrow. He would be more than happy to point out Michael's (hopefully) bruised face and Kurt's newly bruised fist. Well, as long as it wouldn't upset Kurt or invite more trouble.

He shook his head and abandoned those thoughts; back to kitties. He'd be browsing the local animal shelters since Kurt left on Sunday and he'd spotted a few that looked like serious contenders. Some of their names were _ridiculous_ but they were all young enough that Kurt could change it if he wanted.

The first one, _Dandelion_ , was an orange tabby kitten with short hair and bit green eyes. It the bio said that he was really playful, so he'd have to ask if Kurt would rather an excitable pet or calm one, without letting on what he was thinking.

If calm was the way to go then there was Blue, a Russian mix that was about one year old. This guy was already kinda big with these yellow eyes that just made Sam melt. Whoever had written the bio for this cat said they were lazy and cuddly and very relaxed, which would be great for Burt since then it wouldn't unexpectedly jump on him.

Finally, he came to _his_ favorite. He'd get this one if it were up to him, but he wanted to make sure it was the best pet for _Kurt._ Her name was Eleanor and she was a blue point Siamese mix. She was almost completely cream colored except for the traditional point markings with amazing blue eyes, so like Kurt's. She was a mix of the other two in personality and about six months old.

He was shocked she hadn't been adopted already and had every finger and toe crossed that she'd stay that way until he could snatch her up for Kurt.

He closed his laptop and stowed it under his bed. Sam made sure that his alarm was set and he'd done all his homework before lying down in bed. It was only ten o'clock but he was out of things to do and Blaine was holed up in his room talking to Puck.

He was in his own honeymoon phase with Kurt, so he didn't begrudge the shorter boy anything. He stretched languorously and reached for the remote. He flicked on the TV and noticed _The Mummy_ was on.

He smiled and set the sleep timer so that it would turn the TV off after the movie was finished, if he fallen asleep or not. He laughed as Brendan Fraser stole a kiss from Rachel Wiesz. He mentally added it to the list of movies he wanted to watch with Kurt.

At this rate, it would take _forever_ for them to get through them all, and Sam was okay with that.

* * *

Kurt was pulling on his jeans and muttering to himself venomously. Somehow, he'd managed to sleep through his alarm. Luckily, He'd set his alarm for an hour and a half before school started, so the twenty minutes he overslept wouldn't affect him.

Regardless, the interruption from his routine and the uncertainty of the day made him grumpy. He breezed through his shower and didn't bother with any make up, only slapping on a thick layer of the Vitamin E cream and then running a brush through his hair.

He decided on a pair of jeans that he was about to be relegated to the garage drawer since they were a faded grey and had a small rip on the outer thigh. If (when) he got slushied, he wouldn't ruin something he loved. He only hoped it wasn't red, he hated pink skin.

On top he pulled on a shirt that Brittany had made him. While he loved it and the little purple brontosaurus (complete with mustache and monocle) made him smile, it was now a mottled purple from the last slushy adventure. He was hit with three at once and didn't have the opportunity to change because he was going to be late for a test. He only hoped that maybe he'd get hit with more purple, or maybe blue, so it would match.

He slid on a pair of off leather flip-flops (walking around in soggy shoes was miserable) he sighed before stomping over to his phone and satchel. As if he could predict that fact that he would oversleep, Kurt had packed his bag the night before after he'd printed the music for the song he wanted to convince Mr. Schue to let him sing in glee.

He knew it was going to be a hard sell, letting him sing the female lead in _Come What May_ from _Moulin Rouge_ but, dammit, he could do it! He wouldn't deny that he'd fantasized about singing it with Sam, but the content was a little heavy for a couple barely dating a month.

Their glee director had decided that this year he was going to let them come up with their own duet ideas and then have a type of contest. Him and a guest judge (Miss Pillsbury, duh) would choose the best act to open for them at Sectionals.

This contest was his. Or. Else.

He ran upstairs as he thought about their upcoming anniversary. He and Sam hadn't talked about it so he wasn't sure it he should make any kind of fuss about it. Either way, he had the perfect gift idea in mind. He'd stumbled upon a website that let you personalize your own guitar picks.

In their many talks, Sam had told Kurt that he could never keep track of them and he went through hundreds of them, no exaggeration, and found them in every conceivable space in his room. This resulted in a hilarious story of the blond teen almost swallowing one because it happened to get into a bottle of Tylenol and he didn't check his hand before popping the pills in his mouth.

He was still a little vague on what he wanted to put on the picks, but he'd sit down tonight and really think so he could order them in time for their anniversary.

He walked through the kitchen, kissing Carole on the cheek before downing some Advil and grabbing a banana before heading out the door. He walked to the passenger side of his baby ( _not_ dented by the mean jock's fist, thank you very much) and hopped inside.

He fiddled with the controls and set his iPod to play some Amy Winehouse before unpeeling his banana and eating it in the driveway. Even though he'd risen late he managed to get ready double-quick. He didn't want to leave yet, worried about getting to school too early.

He sighed in annoyance. It was ridiculous that he was spending so much time thinking about this. It was ridiculous that he _needed_ to spend this much time thinking about this. He'd much rather think about Friday; McKinley High's first football game of the season.

He was both excited and nervous about the first game. In this town, football was king and the entire population of Lima, Ohio showed up to pack themselves into the metal stands. Sam had shyly informed him that the players got a few family tickets and that he wanted Kurt to have one, if he still wanted to come see him play after what had happened during that practice.

Inwardly, Kurt squealed in delight. Outwardly, Kurt still squealed in delight, just much more quietly, before hugging Sam and informing him that he would love to come see him. He had already been prepared to wait in line for a ticket (Finn _never_ remembered) but now he didn't have to spend his afternoon sitting in the hot sun.

It would also give him the opportunity to get closer to Blaine. He'd always liked the other boy and wanted to make friends with the kind teen form the beginning, but after finding out he was a carrier, Kurt had even more reason to befriend the boy.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to talk about, but it wasn't something you asked an acquaintance. These things were deeply personal and Kurt knew _he_ would be offended and scandalized if someone just approached him and asked him how he felt about actually being pregnant or how his status as a carrier affected his relationships.

Kurt was in the middle of convincing himself to just _go to school already_ when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He shimmied his fingers into his back pocket and extracted the thing. As expected it was from Sam.

_Morning kurt! Come to school, I know you're hiding._

Well, wasn't that the truth. He responded that he _wasn't_ hiding, thank you very much, and he was on his way. A little white lie never hurt anyone. He had a (new) reputation to protect, after all.

He arrived at school, still obscenely early, and noticed Blaine and Sam sitting on the back of the shorter teen's S Class. Next to his boyfriend's leg was what appeared to be Kurt's newest addiction and summer drink: a medium non-fat iced caramel macchiato. _Yum_.

He cautiously got out of his car and made his way to the two companions. This side of the lot was completely empty in deference to the early hour. Most high schoolers didn't want to be on campus a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

He rounded his car and was surprised to see a guilt-stricken looking Blaine peering at him around Sam's hulking form. He was biting his lip as his trying to prevent himself from blurting something out and kicking his legs anxiously.

He approached Sam and was momentarily distracted. The tall boy gently pulled him between his knees and kissed him, sweet and chaste. Kurt felt himself melt into the caress and he closed his eyes to reciprocate.

The blond pulled back with a fond smile and handed Kurt the coffee concoction he'd gotten for him. He reached for it with his bruised hand and Sam clucked his tongue and took his hand, bringing it closer to his face for inspection and placing the drink back on the trunk.

"Aww, baby," he whispered, gently running his fingers over his inflamed knuckles before brushing a soft kiss over the irritated flesh.

Finally, Blaine could contain himself no longer and practically threw himself off the car, stumbling in his haste. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted. "I'm _so_ sorry."

He looked to Sam for a moment before turning to the distraught boy. "What?"

"I didn't notice him there or I never would have let you walk around by yourself! I don't know how I didn't see him, since he must have been waiting for you since before I even got to my car! I feel so bad, your poor hand!"

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise and pulled the upset teen into a hug without even thinking about it.  
"No!" he exclaimed. "Oh my gosh, don't even worry think about that!" He pulled back and held Blaine at arm's length. "He's a sneaky coward, you couldn't have known."

The dark haired boy attempted to smile but looked unconvinced. He looked to Sam for help and he just looked at Kurt significantly. It was clear he'd had this conversation with his friend a few times and hadn't managed to convince him he shouldn't feel guilty.

"Blaine," he said slowly. "Stop worrying. He didn't even touch me. And besides, hitting him was _really_ satisfying, as much as I hate to admit it."

That startled a laugh out of the other teen and he nodded reluctantly. He extended his hand and poked at the dinosaur in the bottom corner of his shirt. "That's so awesome."

"Thanks, Brit made it for me."

"Really?" Sam asked. "That's so cool."

"Uh-huh. I think Santana put her up to it, thinking that it would embarrass me since there was no way I couldn't wear it, you know? But when I was little I had the biggest crush on Jeff Goldblum in _Jurassic Park_ , so I was in love with dinosaurs . Still am," he admitted.

Sam and Blaine laughed, as intended, and Sam actually let Kurt have his coffee this time around. He took a blissful sip and the three teens made their way towards the main building. Blaine waved goodbye as he spotted Puck pulling into the lot and went to wherever the two teens spent their time before classes started.

As they strolled to their lockers Kurt asked if he was excited about the game this Friday.

"Ohmygod, I'm so nervous," he confessed. "If we screw this up _everyone_ is going to blame me."

Not knowing what to say since that was sad yet very, very true, he simply took Sam's hand and squeezed reassuringly. They reached Kurt's locker, wonderfully free of offensive graffiti, and Sam leaned against the other lockers to watch the fair boy as he exchanged his books.

He reached out and ran a gentle had down Kurt's back, making the other boy blush even as he leaned into the touch. As Kurt closed his locker the blond teen pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck before walking ahead of him to his own locker, turning to smile mischievously at the other boy.

The slender boy flushed even further as he hurried to catch up to Sam. Lately, Kurt noticed they couldn't get enough of each other and, when together, they touched almost constantly. He assumed this was normal in any relationship, especially one between teenagers, and it made his stomach squirm in giddy anxiety.

Another thing he had in mind for their anniversary was maybe taking things a little further, heating things up a just a bit more. He'd been…researching and thought that he was more than ready for more. If only they could get some time alone…

His thoughts were interrupted as he ran into Sam's strong back. The blond teen had his backpack in his hand and turned to smile at Kurt devilishly. "Distracted this morning?"

"You be quiet," he murmured, bringing his hands up to cover his heated face. He glanced at the front of the locker and noticed that there were not defamatory words printed on the front with relief.

His relief was short lived when he saw who was coming down the hall; Edison, with a pretty impressive black eye. He unconsciously moved closer to Sam. He could clearly defend himself but the flaxen haired teen was built for confrontation, as much as he hated it. He didn't think his poor hand could take another punch and he really didn't want to wear a cast. That was never cute.

Sam turned around when he noticed Kurt's tense form and his lips thinned to an aggravated line when he saw the other football player. Kurt placed a restraining hand on the other boy's arm and looked at him pleading. He didn't really think that Sam would start a fight in the middle of a hallway but you could never be too certain; glee had taught him that.

The few students that were in the hallway took in the scene with rapt attention and began to whisper to one another when Edison had turned the corner. He sighed heavily and brought a hand up to run it through his hair. A pair of girls whispered furiously, the one with the darker hand trying to gesture at his bruised hand without attracting his attention.

Well, mission unaccomplished. Kurt had a keen eye for people pointing at him. He bit his lip around a groan and shared a look with Sam. By second hour, the entire school would know of their exchange and there were likely to be dozens of stories about how these new bruises on his hand and Edison's face came to be, each more elaborate than the last.

Sam just looked at him a shrugged. "We can't do anything about it until after it happens. We'll do damage control later if we have to."

"Right," he replied, letting Sam guide him to his first class.

They backtracked, the slim boy's class being at the opposite end of the hallway. He stopped in front of the classroom and bent down, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's temple. He pecked his forehead and leaned back, brushing back a wayward lock of hair.

"See you in an hour," he said.

"See you," Kurt replied, reluctantly slipping into the classroom and taking his seat, letting Sam get to his own class.

He sat in his seat at the front of the class. This was his favorite and best subject, so he normally wanted to shine. Today, all he wanted to do was hide. He crossed his legs and pulled out his spiral notebook, turning to the first blank page and preparing for class.

Suddenly his French partner, Tara, scurried through the door in a flurry of sky blue muslin. He loved her fashion sense and impeccable accent, but he hated her nosiness. She slid into the seat beside him, the joy of a new story swimming in her eyes.

Her eyes darted to his hands and they widened we she was the evidence of whatever rumor she had heard. It was worse than he thought; this was fast, even for McKinley.

"Kurt," she breathed, voice pitched low and eager. "Did you get into a fight with Michael Edison?"

Yeah, it was going to be a long day. Gaga give him strength…

Kurt walked out to his car wearily. Glee practice was a complete bust today since all anyone could seem to do was talk about Kurt's fight or sing songs that had to do with fighting. At least Rachel's selection, _I'll Make a Man Out of You_ was tolerable but Artie's rapping nearly sent him over the edge.

Honestly, Kurt was stumped. There _had_ been a ton of backlash when the word of their fight came out, but none of it had been at Kurt or Sam. Incredibly, Edison bore the brunt of the attack. His fellow jocks gave him hell for being beaten by someone like him when it came to an up close and personal confrontation while the rest of the populous was incredulous the he, Kurt Hummel, packed a mean right hook.

McKinley's errant kicker was taking a lot of flak for A) getting booted from the first game, and B) getting beat up by the gay kid. And the most confusing part of it was that Kurt actually felt _bad_ for the idiot. He'd watched him sit in his car during lunch, hunched over his steering wheel and muttering to himself angrily.

Luckily, Mercedes has been there to talk him out of going over there and talking to him. About what, Kurt had no idea, but he felt the desire to approach the other teen. If he had to hear one of the girls call him tenderhearted one more time he was going to cry.

It would only prove them right, but still.

He'd seen the football player get harassed by the very teammates that convinced him to kick the ball at him and claimed to be his friend. He was really grateful that he managed to dodge Edison's attempt to add to his bruise theme he had going on but he was beginning to regret giving in to temptation and retaliating.

Life just wasn't fair and being a teenager made no damn sense. He needed to talk to his dad.

On a more positive note, he and Sam had a date tomorrow! Well, they were going bowling with Wes and David, so he could meet them officially. At least he couldn't spill glaze on one of them this time.

It was kind of a double date, since Blaine and Puck were going as well. Kurt was actually really excited for this. He never thought he'd have the opportunity to go on any date in high school, let alone a double date. He hadn't been bowling since his mother was alive, but he wasn't going to let that get him down.

He reached his car, blissfully free of football players, and plopped inside gracelessly. He checked his phone before pulling out and noticed he had a text from Blaine. He'd given the other boy his number because he figured they were soon-to-be-friends _and_ he had convinced the other boy to help convince Mr. Schuester to let them sing _Come What May_ for Sectionals.

Since he wasn't going to sing the song with Sam he figured Blaine was his best bet. He'd heard the boy sing, _really_ sing, not just for an audition, and he knew their voices would harmonize well. That and he wasn't going to sing this song with his almost-brother, no sir.

The shorter teen thanked him for the sheet music and said he was excited to practice when Sam had practice on Thursday. His father insisted that they not act as thought they were walking on eggshells around him and all but demanded Kurt have his friends over again.

After a quick reply, Kurt put his car in gear and drove home. His room was nowhere near ready for company and he'd never have time to prepare it tomorrow night. He had a feeling that between getting ready for their date and staying out late to bowl, there would be very little time for him to make sure that his room was the rehearsal ready.

* * *

Kurt's date was in an hour and he had nothing to wear. Okay, we all know that's a lie, but he had nothing he thought suitable for a double (triple?) date with Sam and his friends.

He needed to wear pants, _obviously._ Kurt was already having a minor panic attack about having to wear rental shoes from the alley and there was no way he could pull off those clown clonkers in shorts; he'd be all knees and feet _and_ there was a less than zero chance that the shoes would match anything he put on.

So, neutral it was. He pulled on a dark pair of jeans, a bit looser than normal so that they would fall over his shoes instead of cling to his ankles. He sighed and whimpered pitifully, pawing through his shirts desperately.

He finally just closed his eyes and spun in a circle before coming to a stop and darting his hand out, grabbing a shirt randomly. He opened his eyes and laughed. It was the shirt he stole from Sam. Well, that was out, so he picked the shirt next to it. It was a deep purple v-neck with a subtle paisley design over the left breast pocket.

Sam had urged him to take a sweater of some kind, telling him the alley was always cold. He grabbed a charcoal grey cardigan and tossed it over his arm before exiting his closet and throwing it on his bed. He looped a grey leather belt though his pants with a pewter music note on the buckle and smiled. That was more like it.

He slipped on socks and sat in front of his vanity. He'd been debating with himself about putting on make all day. Wes and David already knew what had happened to him and the others had seen him in all his bruised glory but he felt like he should so he didn't draw attention to them.

He picked up his concealer before growling angrily and tossing it back on the countertop. He pushed back from the vanity and went to his bathroom, rummaging around under the sink to find the Lysol wipes packets he knew he had. He'd wear the shoes without complaint but he was going to sanitize them within an inch of their little leather lives.

He walked over to his shoe racks and slipped into a pair of purple plaid tennis shoes. He surveyed his handiwork in the mirror and sighed. It would have to do. He wandered over to his computer and sat at his Mac.

He'd ordered Sam's gift last night, guitar picks with all manner of things on them like _Star Wars_ and _Avatar_ and even a cheesy red one that read "Happy Anniversary". They should be there by the middle of next week, just in time for their weekend anniversary.

As he was browsing the picks he'd ordered, someone knocked on his door. He looked up in confusion and called for them to come in. Carole popped her head in the doorway and smiled. "Sam's here, honey."

What? How had he missed this? "Thanks," he called, grabbing his sweater and bag and ran upstairs.

He found Sam sitting in the living room with his dad, grinning happily. He beamed when he saw Kurt and shook his father's hand before standing. "Hey," Kurt breathed. "Sorry to keep you waiting; I didn't even hear you arrive."

"S'okay," Sam replied, turning back to face his parents.

"One o'clock," Burt said firmly. Kurt was surprised but said nothing. Sam must have made quite the impression for his dad to allow him to be out with five boys until one in the morning.

He kept his mouth shut but nodded in understanding. He kissed his dad and Carole on the cheek before he left and waved at Finn as they passed the kitchen. Sam led him out to the Camaro and opened the door for him.

Kurt smiled in thanks and made sure to cross his legs in a way he knew made them look a mile long. The blond closed the door reluctantly, his eyes moving in a lingering caress over his thighs. When he finally shit the door Kurt allowed himself a brief, wicked grin as the other boy trotted around the back of the car.

Sam slid into the sports car and closed the door behind him. He leaned over the center console and drew Kurt into a short but passionate kiss. His tongue slipped into Kurt's mouth in a slick writhe before retreating. The blond didn't bother covering his smug grin and he took in the dazed look on Kurt's face.

The fair teen shook his head and buckled his seatbelt with Sam backed them out of the drive. Once they were on their way, Sam chatted about practice and how excited he was for all of his friends to be together again.

Kurt smiled, content to just listen to Sam and respond when appropriate. The closer they got to the alley, the more nervous he became. He'd only met Wes and David very briefly and was worried that he was going to commit some sort of faux pas that would make them hate him.

They pulled into the bowling alley and Sam remarked that they were the first ones there. "Puck hadn't gotten to the house by the time I left and Wes and David are always at least ten minutes late," he explained, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Sam held the door open for him and followed him inside. They approached the counter and Kurt couldn't help but notice the middle-aged woman staring at his face. He should have worn makeup. The tanned teen noticed the clerk's stare and cleared his throat pointedly.

She shook he head a plastered a fake smile on her face before asking how she could help them. Sam requested two lanes, as they had agreed upon earlier (apparently, Wes and David played by a completely different set of rules) and gave their shoe sizes.

Kurt couldn't quite suppress his grimace as he took the red and brown monstrosities and followed Sam to lanes ten and eleven. He sat across from Sam and placed his shoes on the table, pulling out the Lysol wipes and opening them swiftly.

The muscular teen chuckled at Kurt's precaution but said nothing as he wiped down both of their shoes. Sam's were blue and white, a far cry better than his own. He was right, they didn't match at _all_. His distaste must have shown on his face because Sam chuckled before leaning across the table and lightly kissing his bruised cheek. "You are so cute."

"I know," he replied cheekily, glad his nerves were settling.

Sam roared with laughter before tossing his shoes on the floor and jamming his feet into them. He tied them in a messy knot and wiggled his feet happily before looking at Kurt expectantly. He rolled his eyes and slid his feet into the garish things and tied them up much neater than Sam had.

The other teen stood and gestured for Kurt to follow him. "What kind of ball do you use?"

"There are different kinds?" he blurted out without thinking.

"Yeah, like, different weights," he explained, surprising Kurt by not teasing him.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't been bowling in like, nine years. Nothing to heavy."

Sam hovered over the balls before pulling one off the rack (purple!) and handing it to Kurt. "Try this one."

Kurt stuck his fingers in the holes and attempted to heft the ball and give it a cursory swing. The weight was fine (eleven pounds) but the holes were too big, causing him to fumble the ball wildly. Luckily, Sam helped him catch it before it launched across the room.

"Too heavy?" he asked.

"No," Kurt replied, flushing. "The holes are too big."

Sam nodded in understanding and handed him another ball. This time Kurt's test swing went perfectly and he cradled the ball close to his chest while Sam picked out his ball. The muscular teen went for a sixteen pound ball in a bright green and smiled his lopsided smile.

"Show off," Kurt muttered teasingly. Sam just shrugged bashfully and placed his ball on the resurfacing machine, Kurt following suit.

Just as they were about to sit down, Puck and Blaine showed up looking ruffled and happy. Well, no need to ask what _they_ had been doing. He and Sam giggled uncontrollably as Puck and Blaine retrieved their shoes and made their way over to the table.

Blaine shrugged out of his jacket, smiling in greeting, only to reveal a newly-formed hickey near neckline of his t-shirt. This set Sam and Kurt off giggling again while Blaine only stared at them in bewilderment. Noah Puckerman just grinned smugly and winked at them.

He walked off to get balls for him and Blaine and Kurt tried to subtly gesture at his own neck, signaling to Blaine why they were laughing. The shorter teen blushing and pressed his fingertips to the tender spot, smiling sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah," he said, trying to glance down.

Kurt laughed and rummaged through his bag, handing the flustered boy his mirror. Blaine adjusted his shirt to cover the mark and smiled at the fair teen gratefully. "Thanks. Wes and David never would have let me hear the end of it."

"Hear the end of what?" they heard from behind them. Sure enough, Wes and David were standing behind them, eyes bright and mischievous.

David put his arm around Blaine's neck and pulled the t-shirt down enough to reveal the purplish mark. "That his boyfriend's a vampire, of course."

Wes cackled delightedly and the two flounced off to order something at the snack counter. Blaine facepalmed but brightened when Noah returned. The mohawked boy placed their bowling balls next to Sam and Kurt's and sank into the seat next to him.

They chatted idly until the other boys returned with a mountain of powdered sugar covered dough and two giant sodas. "So, chaps," Wes began. "Shall we?"

Sam and Blaine rolled their eyes and the curly haired teen started to enter their names into the machine. Wes and David did the same while taking out their own personal bowling balls. Kurt narrowed his eyes in interest. They were a clear jelly looking substance, one green one blue, and they appeared to have insects inside them.

It reminded Kurt of _Jurassic Park_ again and he smiled. The two energetic boys began to bowl, using their own unique scoring system that had more to do with the pins they left up than the ones they knocked down.

Puck bowled first on their side and immediately got a strike. Kurt was pretty sure it was the muscles and the pin threw themselves down in fear of being splintered by a ball of plastic and resin. He kept his thoughts to himself and watched as Blaine went, earning himself a spare.

Well, Kurt was beginning to see he was a bit out of his league, quite literally. Then it was Sam's turn and, surprise surprise, another strike. Kurt stood to take his turn and bit his lip self-consciously. Yeah, he was going to suck.

He walked to the ball-return and snagged his as Sam was retreating. "Don't make fun of me when I suck," he implored.

Sam laughed, "Of course not! Sweetheart, you haven't been bowling in like, ten years. Do you remember how?" he asked sincerely.

"I think so."

Turns out, he remembered how, he just couldn't execute it. All in all, he managed to knock down three pins. Instead of the humiliation he thought he would feel all he could do was giggle. He was so bad it truly was laughable.

He walked back and bounced his shoulders as if to say "Oh well". Wes and David ribbed each other and smiled widely as he returned. "Been awhile?" Wes asked teasingly.

Kurt nodded his head and took his seat next to Sam. the blond boy draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him in closer, kissing the top of his head. "Yeah," he replied. "Not since my mom died."

The two teens across from him stopped chortling abruptly and looked at one another in horror. Sam burst out into hysterical laughter and hugged him close.

"What?" he whispered.

"I've never seen them speechless before!" he said gleefully.

"Well," Kurt replied, fluttering his eyelashes coyly. "I'm glad I'm good at _something_."

* * *

The teens finished up their games, Wes and David apologizing the entire time. Puck had ended up winning two of the three games they played, with Sam winning the other. Kurt's highest score was a whopping 86, which was actually a vast improvement over his fist game, where he bowled a 42.

He was actually kind of glad he was sincerely terrible at bowling since it gave them all something to laugh about the entire time. That, and it gave him excuse to have Sam demonstrate how to properly swing the ball.

Kurt had no interest in improving his game if it meant he could get Sam's arms around him as often as possible. Sam didn't seem to be complaining either.

The three groups of teens went their separate ways. Kurt was pretty sure Blaine and Puck were going to go wherever they were earlier to finish fooling around while Wes and David seemed to have plans for the local 24-hour grocery store. There dessert-fueled bowling frenzy was wearing off and it seemed they needed another sugar fix.

Sam and Kurt, however, were going to get a cup of coffee and then go to this "spot" Sam had told him about. He hoped it was, *ahem*, private.

They stopped at The Daily Grind to get something to drink. Kurt strayed from the norm by ordering iced tea instead of a coffee. The crisp drink would be refreshing after the smoky atmosphere of the bowling alley.

There was a bar attached to the alley and the patrons seemed to love their cigarettes and cigars. He was so glad that his boyfriend wasn't the kind to sneak cigarettes behind the bleachers to be cool since it made his nose itch and his throat feel scratchy.

When they had gotten their drinks and Kurt had finished shivering over the amount of sugar that had to be in Sam's caramel-mocha-coconut-crazychino they made their way back out to Sam's car.

Kurt relaxed into the butter-soft leathers as Sam prattled on about something as they drove towards Sam's house and then beyond. The soft sounds of his voice encouraged the slender teen to let his mind wander.

He reached over and placed his hand on Sam's knee, angling his head towards him. "Have you been listening?" he asked knowingly.

Kurt shook his head no and smiled, brushing his thumb back and forth across the outside of his knee. Sam squeezed his hand in return before returning it to the shifter. "Almost there," he said softly.

They turned down a dirt road and Sam past the end, stopping just in front of a fallen tree trunk, a canopy of trees above them keeping out the night chill by preventing the winds from washing over him. Sam grabbed a blanket from his trunk and beckoned Kurt to follow him.

They rounded the tree trunk and bundled them in the blanket before they took a seat in what was clearly Sam's favorite place. The tree trunk had all the bark shorn from this area, leaving it smooth. The overgrowth that had been cleared away and in place of an overgrown jungle it created a cozy place to sit.

They cuddled together and sipped at their drinks. Kurt almost wished he'd gotten hot tea, but he had his own personal warmer in the form of a six foot tall statue of perfection.

Once they were settled Sam gestured upward and smiled. Kurt looked up and inhaled in surprised. The canopy broke just above their heads in a rough circle and they were able to look at the night sky.

"How did you find this?" he asked, incredulous.

Sam took a long sip of his drink. "Remember I told you about Gordon?" he asked.

Kurt nodded in acknowledgement and waited for Sam to continue.

"Well, it was right after we broke up. We'd just had sex a few days prior and I guess he found me…lacking, or something. He broke up with me with a text message. I just happened to be driving when I got it, so I kept driving and driving and I actually ran out of gas, right here," he said motioning back towards his car. "I sat here for a while before Blaine called me because my parents had called him. Since then, I come here when I need to think or just want to be alone or just… relax. Do you like it?"

"It's amazing," he assured. "I'm sorry you had to find it that way, but it really is beautiful."

"Mmm," he agreed. "Silver lining."

Kurt cuddled close, tucking his nose under Sam's chin. "That's a good way to look at it," he said before pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his chin. "You have such a great outlook on things. I really love that about you."

The blond tightened his embrace and looked down at Kurt. He smiled lazily and took Kurt's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He slowly lowered his mouth to Kurt's and kissed him, the sweet taste of his frappe still on his tongue.

Kurt responded instantly, deepening the kiss and cooing into his mouth. Their kissed grew more heated and Sam worried the other boy's lower lip between his teeth. He released the inflamed appendage and trailed kisses across his jaw until he reached his ear. He took the lobe between his teeth as he had done with his lip moments earlier and nibbled lightly.

Kurt mewled happily and crawled into the tall boy's lap, straddling his thighs. He panted slowly and clutched at Sam's shoulders. He urged the blonde's lips back to his own and kissed his feverishly. He plucked at the buttons on Sam's shirt and swiftly undid them.

He let his hands roam across the firm expanses of Sam's chest, plucking at his nipples. The privacy afforded by their remote location made Kurt bold. He had originally planned to save this for their anniversary but he didn't know when they would be able to steal a moment like this again. And he _wanted_.

"Wait," he whispered against Sam's full lips.

The blond immediately pulled away and looked at Kurt. "What it is?" he replied, equally as soft.

"Can I—um, can I try something?"

"Oh, you mean like…?" Sam asked, trailing off significantly.

Kurt nodded minutely and reached for the button on Sam's jeans as the other boy nodded. His fingers shook as they popped the button and slowly dragged the zipper down. He leaned forward and pressed a wet kiss to the blonde's collarbones as he drew his stiff shaft from his trousers.

He rested his forehead on Sam's chest as he watched his hand slowly stroke Sam's manhood. He licked his lips hesitantly before kissing a path down the muscular teen's chest and abdomen. He glanced up at the other boy's hazel eyes before bending forward once more and pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of his erection.

He reveled in Sam's pleased hiss and bestowed tiny, sucking kisses down his impressive length. He lapped at the base before raising his head, only to sink down over the head of his cock.

He concentrated on his breathing and trying to take as much of Sam into his mouth as possible. He closed his eyes and soon found a rhythm, using his fist to stroke and twist what he couldn't take into his mouth.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, he pulled back and stoked over his spit-slicked lengths for a few white-hot seconds. He heard Sam's shaky breaths, loud in the stillness of the night. One of the blonde's hands came to cup his jaw while the other buried itself in his hair.

The other teen was gazing at him wondrously, making Kurt's heart pound happily and his breath catch in his chest. He sank his mouth down over his again and hummed contentedly, his free hand coming to rest on Sam's hip.

He felt clumsy and his jaw ached and there was this constant urge to cough but Sam was looking at him like he was some kind of treasure, making the smoky arousal in his belly coil slowly around him in a vice grip.

He heard Sam's panting breaths begin to morph into grunts and finally a growl. "Kurt," he warned. "Close."

The fair teen briefly debated the merits of swallowing but pulled back, deciding to save that for another time, perhaps their anniversary. The thought was a bit daunting and he didn't think he was quite prepared for it this time.

He stared into Sam's face, eyes closed and head thrown back, hips thrusting into the tunnel of his fists. He made a tortured sound, sounding like the best, most exquisite torment, and came. His hips moved erratically and he bit his lip mercilessly as Kurt stroked him through his orgasm.

Finally, Sam collapsed bonelessly against the trunk and splayed his legs wide, unashamed at his nudity. Kurt bit his lip and whimpered, his own arousal becoming urgent. Sam heard the desperate note in his tone and pulled him close. He kissed him lazily and slowly undid Kurt's own jeans, asking permission.

"Yes," he whispered frantically. "Yes."

Sam slid his hand inside and gripped him firmly. Kurt gasped in pleasure and slumped over his defined chest, mouthing at the heated flesh he found there. He mewled pitifully and thrust into the calloused fingers encircling his engorged length.

His orgasm snuck up on him and grabbed him by the throat, slamming into him harshly and making him breathless. He buried his teeth in Sam's collarbone as his legs quivered with the strength of his release.

Sam's lips desperately sought his own and the blond kissed the taste of himself from Kurt's mouth. They broke the kiss and Sam let his head fall back against the fallen tree trunk. The fair teen curled against his chest and caught his breath.

He felt lightheaded and shivery and _amazing_. And sticky, but that was beside the point.

Sam chuckled weakly and cracked one eye open to look at Kurt. "I want to run my fingers through your hair and stuff by…" he trailed off, holding up his come covered hands.

Kurt blushed when confronted with the evidence of his climax. "Uh, yeah," he replied. "Me too."

Sam leaned over and snagged the napkin he'd wrapped around his drink, now wet with condensation, and swiped the clammy mess from his fingers. Kurt copied his actions with his own napkin and they both redressed.

The snuggled under the blankets once more, feeling closer than ever. "I don't want to leave," Kurt confided.

"We have time; it's only 11:30," Sam replied after checking his phone.

Kurt cuddled closer. "Good."

The blond sniggered in amusement. "Tired, baby?"

"Maybe a little."

"Close your eyes," Sam encouraged. "I'll wake you up when we have to go."

"Are you sure? I feel like I'm always falling asleep on you."

The blond smiled down at him gently and smoothed a hand down his back. "I don't mind."

He looked down and the dozing form of his boyfriend and took in the porcelain skin and delicate feature. No, Sam didn't mind one bit.

* * *

Glee practice came to a close on Thursday and Kurt strode out to his car happily. Blaine followed him out to his own car and the two chatted excitedly, eager to begin practice on their duet.

He reached his car and slid into the driver's seat with a smile. Since his confrontation with Edison on Monday, he hadn't been teased in _three days_. The only person that had even glanced at him strangely had been Karofsky.

He had a feeling between his confrontation with Edison, Coach Beiste's retribution, and the fact that the two best players on the team were bi, things might start looking better for him and his friends. Strangely enough, Coach Sylvester had been an unpredictable ally.

Since the Cheerio coach had returned she had still been her same old self; a she-devil with a purpose. But now, her purpose seemed to be turning the tormentors into the tormented. For once, the harridan was making Kurt's life easy instead of making him feel even more persona non grata.

And he was _still_ self-conscious about his hips, thank you very much. However, some of his pain was lessened as she literally chased Azimio down a hallway with a slushy made of her illicit protein powder and placenta. _Blech_.

He shivered, feeling phantom slushy drip down his back. He sighed and focused his thoughts on the moment. He slowly backed up and made sure Blaine was following before driving home. The dark haired teen and he agreed t practice for two hours, partially because they didn't really need it, all they needed to nail down was the choreography, and because Puck had surprised his duet partner with tickets to go see the orchestra that was in Westerville.

He made his way through town and pulled into his drive, Blaine coming to a halt behind him. He hopped out of the car and grabbed his bag, waiting for the curly haired teen before breezing into the house.

"I'm home!" he called, his aunt peeking out of the kitchen and waving at him with a spatula and a wry grin. "He's in spare room," she explained. "He's taking a nap. I think the medicine is really doing a number on him right now."

Kurt's smile dimmed but he nodded in understanding. He noticed Maggie peering around him at the dapper gentleman behind him and inwardly smacked himself at his lack of manners. "Aunt Maggie, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is my aunt," he introduced.

"Well _hello_ , sweetheart," he said with a sly wink.

"Nice you meet you, miss," Blaine replied.

Maggie tittered blithely. "Aren't you a doll? I haven't been a miss in a very long time."

The shorted teen blushed and huffed a short laugh. Kurt responded in kind before pressing a quick kiss to her powdery cheek and leading Blaine to his basement.

As it turns out, the teens would need to meet again for practice. Between laughing over glee club's hijinks and Coach Sylvester's antics they didn't get much done. They ran the song a few times but it often dissolved into giggles midway through the song.

They didn't need to practice singing, and the choreography would be a breeze once they actually _tried_ , but not bursting into laughter halfway through was proving to be a challenge. Luckily, the date for the "auditions" was in three weeks, so they had time.

Blaine left at six, needed to get home and change into something orchestra appropriate before Noah came to get him. He hugged his new friend goodbye and bid him goodnight, wishing him a nice evening.

He walked back into the living room and sat next to his father. He'd woken from his nap and was eating bowl of soup with the bread he'd made while catching up on some episodes of _Sons of Guns_ Kurt had recorded for him.

He curled up next to his dad and rested his head on his shoulder. There were a few moments when Kurt was scared he'd never get to do this again. Now, those anxieties were passed and he had no intention of taking this for granted anymore. In the middle of the second episode there was a knock at the door.

Kurt slowly sat up and looked at his father uncertainly. It was nearly 8:30 and his whole family was already here.

"I think that's for you," his dad said quietly, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Kurt narrowed his eyes in confusion and stood from the couch, quickly flitting towards the door. He looked in the peephole and beamed when he saw a head of blond hair. He swung open the door and cocked his head in question. "What are you doing here?" he asked happily. Pulling him into a hug.

"Uh," he began, pulling back and holding him at arm's length. "I have a surprise for you. A present."

"A present?"

Sam nodded. "It's kinda early, for our anniversary," he said, blushing. "But I was worried that it would be gone if I waited any longer."

"Oh," he said, surprised, breathless. "Um, do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, but uh, go in your room and close your eyes?" he requested. "It's gonna take me a minute to get everything ready."

Intrigued, Kurt left the door open and walked back through the living room. His father smiled enigmatically and gestured towards his room with a jerk of his head. He obeyed, sitting cross-legged on his bed and closing his eyes. He toppled over and buried his face in the pillow, listening to the sounds above him.

He heard muffled voices, his father's and Sam's, and a few muffled _thumps_ and frowned in confusion. What the hell _was_ it? Finally, he heard his bedroom door creak open and his boyfriend's voice calling down to him.

"Are your eyes closed?"

Kurt sat up, folding his hands in his lap and smiling. "Uh-huh."

"'Kay," Sam replied, slowly climbing down the stairs.

He felt the tall boy come to a stop in front of him and could practically sense his smile. "Ready?" Sam asked.

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed. "Now you're just teasing!"

The blond laughed. "Maybe a little," he allowed. "Okay, open your eyes."

He opened his eyes only to want to punch Sam in his perfect chest because he was holding whatever it was _behind his back!_ "Sam!" he cried.

The muscled boy laughed and kicked at the floor. "Sorry, you're just so cute when you're like this."

Kurt wanted to ask _Like what?_ but repressed the urge. "Lemme see!" he commanded instead.

"I hope you like her."

 _Her?_ he thought in the second before Sam pulled his arms from behind his back and presented him with the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. "You got me a cat?" he whispered.

"Uh, yeah. Too much?" Sam asked worriedly.

"No, she's—I love it. Her. I love her," he stuttered. "Can I…hold her?"

The strong boy handed the tiny thing over gingerly, giving her one last fond stroke down her back. Kurt took her, feeling clumsy and inadequate. She was so tiny, even though she was passed the early stages of kittenhood; slim and long and lean with beautiful fur. She reminded Kurt of a model. Well, if cat's had models.

"Does she have a name?" he asked, awed.

"Eleanor," Sam supplied. "That's what the shelter named her. Um, they said you could change it if you want, especially since she's still so young."

He slim teen looked into her sleepy blue eyes. "It's perfect; it suits her," he said. He looked back to sam, beaming. "How old is she?"

"Six months," he said. "I've got all her paperwork upstairs. She's got all her shots and she's already fixed. I picked up some food and a litter box and other things they said she'd need."

Kurt leaned up and gripped the back of Sam's neck, pulling him into a quick, passionate kiss. "Thank you," he said, voice thick with tears.

Sam kissed him on the forehead before sitting next to him, lightly rubbing over Eleanor's dark nose. "She's so pretty," Kurt mused. "I have no idea why she was in a shelter."

"I know," the taller boy agreed. "When I saw her, I wanted her for you so much. As soon as your dad said it was okay I ran to get her."

"When did you ask?"

Sam grinned. "The night we went bowling."

Kurt's reply was cut off by the loud purring that erupted form Eleanor's throat. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face over Kurt's chin and he absolutely melted. "I love her already," he whispered.

"I'm glad."

"What gave you the idea?" the fair teen asked.

"When you told me you'd never had a pet that day we went to Color Me Mine. I could see how much you liked R2 so…" he trailed off, shrugging.

"She's so pretty. What is she, do you know?"

Sam cleared his throat as he slipped his shoes off and crossed his legs. "They said she's a blue point Siamese mix. I don't… really know what that is," he confessed.

Kurt just shrugged and cuddled her closer, then cuddling into Sam's side. "Thank you," he repeated. "Thank you."

Sam said nothing, just wrapped his arms around him. Kurt slowly leaned back, the blond following. He gently laid Eleanor between them and stroked down her lean form. "She's so soft," he mused aloud.

The blond ran his fingers over her silky fur, the digits tangling with Kurt's. The pale teen tightened his grip on them and rested them over the sleeping kitten's belly, their fingers idly rubbing her fur as they caressed each other.

Sam brought his other arm up and ran his fingers though Kurt's hair, lulling him into his own state of cat-like drowsiness. The two teens stayed like that late into the night, a bone-deep contentedness taking over them.

Kurt had no doubt in his mind that he was falling in love.


	22. Friday Night Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Glee or any of the characters therein.
> 
> WARNINGS: Smut, boys loving other boys, language, mild violence, fluffiness in excess, etc.

Eleanor lay curled on top of Kurt's pillow, purring away happily as she observed her new human and the man that rescued her arranging her belongings. Over the past few hours she'd been adored and cooed over as she deserved, being the gorgeous, unique creature she was.

It was about time someone noticed that. The brats that she'd been living with before had no concept of their place in life. _No one_ painted her fur purple. No one.

She'd swiped at the identical idiots and they wailed to their mother, a creature that shamelessly indulged her brood, and to the shelter she went. Kittens like that would have gotten a swift clout across the head and a bite to the scruff of their neck otherwise they'd never make it to adulthood. There was a reason some animals ate their young.

Her new human seemed to be of much better breeding and just as pretty as she was, as was fitting for a creature of her station. There was no fur yanking, no screaming in her delicate ears, no tossing her around like a hot potato and definitely no fur modifications.

Eleanor's new home was cool and clean and already filled with love and she'd do her best to keep it that way. The gentleman that had come to release her from her shelter prison had crooned to her and held her in his lap, promising her a new home.

The blond sat on the floor and assembled her complex litter box, the kind that looked like an end table, and chatted to her fair human as he rearranged his room to better accommodate the new addition. She watched as her bed and toys were carefully placed in the corner as Kurt fretted over the placement.

Her dark ears pricked up as she heard him pouring food into bright ceramic bowls with cheery fish painted on the sides. She bounded over to the corner and wound herself around his leg in gratitude before daintily munching away.

Moving really took a lot out of a girl.

She observed her new owner and hero's interactions. It was clear they were crazy for one another but were too inexperienced to recognize the signs in the other. Sure she was young, but she was wise beyond her months. She prided herself on her human reading skills.

They danced around each other like the birds she used to watch from the window; flitting forward excitedly but backing up just as quick, worried they had moved too fast when they both desperately wanted to settle down and nest like a pair of birds in the spring.

Well, since was sort of indebted to them for giving her a home, she'd do what she could to help them see the error of their ways. If there was one thing animals know, it was mating, and while cats didn't really mate for life, it was clear her human did. Well, would.

Sam crowed triumphantly, her litter box successfully assembled. He placed it where directed and smiled softly at her human. He pretended to collapse for exhaustion, playfully sliding down the wall.

He glanced at the smaller boy from under his bangs and his grin turned sly. The slim boy giggled and curled into the larger boy's lap like she had been curled up in his moments ago. Eleanor had a feeling that if her human had the ability to purr, he would be.

Not one to be left out, she sauntered over and nudged her way into her owners arms, nuzzling against him and Sam both. Without hesitation, they held her close, Kurt looking down at her adoringly, and then up at his blond counterpart with the same look of devotion.

He tilted his face up for a kiss and Eleanor was forgotten for a moment as the two lost themselves in sweet pecks and nibbles. She stretched over their laps and a deep purr rumbled in her chest.

Then everyone was standing and she lost her comfortable perch. The blond boy was murmuring apologetically and gesturing upstairs, clearly needing to get home. Kurt nodded in understanding and walked with him to the stairs.

Before Sam could make his way up the staircase the pale teen grabbed him and kissed him fervently. If he had a tail it would be twitching frantically, the thin boy clearly feeling more than a bit frisky but not willing to risk his father's wrath by doing this upstairs in front of him, regardless of his temporary poor health.

Eleanor approved of this parenting style wholeheartedly. She's only met the intimidating man for a moment before being whisked away downstairs but he smelled protective and indulgent and strong with kind eyes to match.

They roved over the Sam warily but softened once the blond wasn't looking. Even his dull human sense could detect the affections this boy had for her new human.

As they disappeared upstairs she hopped on Kurt's giant mattress and made herself comfortable on the pillow nearest the wall. Within moments, her owner was back and getting ready for bed. About time, really. Humans had little sense, staying awake when there was napping to be done.

The bed dipped as the slender boy slid into bed, beaming at her radiantly. He cushioned his head on the pillow next to her and stroked her reverently, whispering words of affection. These quiet praises soon turned towards Sam, and Kurt spilled his heart to his new companion.

Eleanor stretched out and stared with rapt attention. It was a feline's sacred duty to listen to their human, being a supportive and nonjudgmental entity for the ones that cared for them.

He talked about his growing feelings for the blond boy, he fears for the future, his hopes despite what the future may bring.

"I think I love him," he confided. "But we haven't even been together a month. Is that silly?"

She reached a paw out to touch his face and meowed emphatically. Love was never silly, but sometimes humans were.

* * *

Kurt filed into the stands anxiously, chatting with Blaine as they clutched their tickets and bounced nervously. As usual, the entire population of Lima, Ohio was here to worship at the altar of athletics. He and the dark haired boy navigated their way to the family section and took their seats in the front row of the bleachers.

Neither team was on the field just yet, both most likely receiving pep talks for their respective coaches. He and Blaine talked about their duet and Kurt gushed over his anniversary gift, showing a picture he'd snapped of her splayed out over the warm spot in his bed as soon as he'd vacated it.

In turn, Blaine enthused over his evening with Puck at the orchestra. Kurt was so glad for the tentative friendship he seemed to have forged with this boy, practically overnight. The girls were great, really they were, but it was nice to have male friends.

With Jesse back in California, he'd really missed the male interaction he experienced over the summer. They still spoke through text and online every day, but he still missed the confident guy he'd come to know so well. His phone buzzed his pocket and he smiled when he saw it was a message from the aforementioned teen.

_Hey Skurt. Having fun ogling your gorgeous football honey?_

Kurt laughed and flushed when he saw Blaine's questioning expression. He bit his lip and showed the other boy the message, causing him to snicker in amusement.

"Not yet," he said. "Nothing out here for us to appreciate."

Kurt nodded enthusiastically and tapped out a quick response.

_You're just irked you've got nothing to ogle, Jesse St. Jealous_

The response was quick, even for Jesse.

_You have no idea : \_

Kurt frowned, feeling guilty at his unintended insensitivity. It was easy to forget that he was in California, away from the one he wanted to be with.

_Sorry :( How are things with Rachel?_

As his message floated off into cellular space, Blaine nudged him and pointed to the corner of the field farthest from them. McKinley's finest were marching onto the field, the marching band playing their Alma Mater. His eyes immediately zoomed in on the blond quarterback, holding his helmet against his hip.

He and Blaine sighed in unison before looking at one another and giggling like mad. Perhaps stirrup pants weren't without redemption. Puck spotted them and gave his boyfriend a saucy wink before batting at Sam and pointing out their position.

The quarterback smiled brightly, looking radiant under the intense glare of the floodlights illuminating the field for the night's game. His little-kid excitement was contagious and he beamed back at him, throwing in a jaunty little wave.

Coach Beiste called them to attention and the boys were forced to focus their attention on their leader. His phone vibrated in this hand and he focused his attention on it while he could. He loved Jesse but there was no way he was going to let anything distract him from his boyfriend's first game.

_Things between us are okay but the distance is less than ideal_

Well, that he could understand. Ohio and California weren't all that close so opportunities to see one another were going to be few and far in between.

_So, what exactly is going on between you and Miss Berry?_

He looked up and noticed the Cheerios sauntering onto the field. Santana trailed behind Brittany and put on a good show, licking her lips and winking at the footballers drooling over her curves, but her gaze lingered on Brittany fondly.

He frowned. He cared for them both but he knew Santana's reluctance to delve into her feelings for Brittany was causing the sweet girl a lot of pain. Glee needed to stick together, but if the Latina girl ended up hurting Brittany, sweet, innocent, kind Brittany, they'd be having some words.

The blond spotted him and waved happily, her ponytail swinging behind her bouncing head. She held up the sign language for "I love you" and Kurt blew her a kiss. Coach Sylvester bellowed into her megaphone and the cheerleaders scrambled into formation.

He looked to his phone and saw two messages from Jesse.

_We've talked a lot. A lot, and we've moved past what happened between us when I was there._

_She's hesitant to start anything official, because of the distance. It's hard to mend romantic bridges from so far away._

He pursed his lips in regret for his friend. While he wanted them to be happy, he understood Rachel's reluctance to begin a relationship with someone that lived hundreds of miles away. He hoped that they reached a solution that was satisfying to them both.

It looks like he needed to have some girl time with one of his favorite divas and get the 411. He tapped out a quick response, noticing that the teams were starting to look restless and huddle together.

_Hang in there, if you really think it'll be worth it. I'll have a little lady-chat with Rach and see what's going on in her ambitious little head._

He waited for Jesse's response ( _Thanks, hope your blondie wins)_ and slipped his phone back in his pocket. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders and clutched at the lapels excitedly. He never thought he'd see the day that he was elated over a football game.

And nervous, very nervous. If they lost, things could become quite difficult for him, for Puck and Blaine, and most definitely for Sam.

There was a shrill whistle cry before the active players trotted out on to the field and Jacob Ben Israel made the announcement that the game was about to begin. He bounced in his seat and turned to Blaine with a nervous smile.

The dark haired boy let out a shaky breath and widened his eyes dramatically. "Are you as nervous as I am?"

"Ohmygod, yes," Kurt breathed. "Especially because of the fiasco with Michael Edison and The Case of the Furious Football."

Blaine laughed and nodded, subtly pointing at the benched player that was glaring angrily at the field, and more noticeably, Sam.

Then the game was underway. Kurt realized it had started without his knowledge and he was baffled. "You'd think there'd be a little more ceremony when it started," he stated. Blaine nodded in agreement.

It was clear from the very beginning that Coach Beiste, despite being an unorthodox coach, was making a difference. Coach Tanaka's laxidasical coaching style and abundance of players made for a lazy team. It was also clear that the rival team had not been expecting McKinley to be so well prepared.

Within moments, the Titans had already scored one touchdown by their very own Noah Puckerman. Blaine jumped up and cheered wildly, Kurt not far behind. Well, that was a damn good start.

It turns out that all Kurt's fears were unnecessary. McKinley beat Ryson High, 21 to 12. Blaine hugged the slender teen and hopped up and down joyously.

Rivalries momentarily forgotten, the team hugged and pounded each other on the back in congratulations. Kurt grabbed the shorter boy by the arm and urged him towards the fence that separated the public from the players so they could say a quick well done to their boyfriends before they had to retreat to the locker rooms.

The duo was momentarily surprised when Coach waved them through, along with Tina, into the field. The swiftly made their way to the gate on the side and slipped onto the track surrounding the field. Apparently, Coach Beiste wanted her players to be rewarded for good behavior and success because Coach Tanaka would have had a fit about their unworthy presence contaminating the field and distracting his players.

Puck immediately trotted over after tapping Mike and pointing over to Tina. Sam was in a small huddle with Finn and Coach Beiste, but the blond boy looked over and smiled, mouthing that he would be over in a moment.

Kurt nodded and turned to Noah and Mike. He gave them each a brief hug before leaving them to celebrate in private. He watched as the crowd filed out of the stadium efficiently. This was a common enough activity that there was little confusion and the stands were empty in moment, only family and friends of the players lingering in the balmy night breeze.

A shock of white caught his eye near the edge of the field. Edison was making his way back to the locker room, his form tense with aggravation and self loathing. As much as he hated to admit it, the team needed him back.

Out of three field goals attempted by McKinley's replacement kicker, Dennis Kelly, only one was successful. He appreciated Coach Beiste's determination to squash disrespect and homophobia on her team, but he was worried that it would begin to cause animosity among the team.

He leaned against the fence and idly stared at the sky. The bleachers were empty and the opposite team was piling into the bus. Kurt watched the blue and yellow uniforms squeeze into the yellow vehicle, the band piling into the bus behind.

He heard the scrape of a shoe to his side and saw a grinning Sam jogging up to him. His helmet had been discarded and the smudges of eye black had smeared a bit over his cheeks. He swept Kurt into an exuberant hug and lifted him off his feet.

The blond gently set Kurt on his feet before playfully muscling him against the fence and kissing him roughly. He pressed the long line of his body against Kurt's, the heat of Sam's body scorching him.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, pressing up onto his tip toes and deepening the kiss, tongue twining sensuously. The quarterback pulled back reluctantly and rested his forehead against Kurt's, opening his eyes and smiling as gazed at the pale boy.

"You were awesome," Kurt gushed, breathless.

"Thanks," Sam replied. "I was so worried, but Coach Beiste is amazing. She really knows her stuff."

Kurt let the tall teen continue to hold him, covered in sweat and everything. His jubilance was contagious. Sam peppered kisses over his cheeks, taking care to be extra gentle of the bruises that still covered his face.

"These are almost gone," he remarked. "That cream works really well."

Kurt nodded and pressed another kiss to his lips. He heard someone clear their throat awkwardly to their side. He glanced over and saw Finn, blushing to the roots of his hair. Whoops! Kurt forgot they were in public.

He and Sam separated slightly, the blond capturing his hand and rubbing over his knuckles softly. "Hey, Finn," Kurt chimed. "Great game."

The gangly teen grinned simply and nodded. "Yeah, it was. You're a really great player, Sam; you deserved to get quarterback."

Well, humility at last. Sam thanked him and curled his arm around Kurt's waist. The pair looked at Finn curiously, wondering if he'd only come over to pay the blond a compliment.

"Oh," he said, realizing he was staring at where their bodies were touching. "Um, Coach wants us all in the locker room."

The muscled teen nodded. "Thanks, man. Be right there."

Finn nodded and ambled off slowly. Sam turned and smiled down at Kurt. "Gotta go, sweetheart," he said regretfully.

Kurt nodded and tilted his face up for a kiss. Sam kissed his softly before grinning and dipping him dramatically. The fair boy laughed into Sam's mouth and stumbled as he was abruptly set upright.

"Go!" Kurt commanded playfully. "I'll see you when you've showered and changed and look un-footbally."

Sam winked and trotted off, falling in place next to Finn. Kurt shook his head in amusement and wandered off towards the parking lot where he'd wait for his boyfriend. They had agreed that after the game they would go to the spot Sam had showed him earlier in the week. He planned to give Sam _his_ present tonight and only hoped he liked it half as much as he loved Eleanor.

Kurt had packed a snack for them, iced tea (sweet for Sam, of course) and some fruit and hummus with homemade pita chips. He made his way to his Navigator and opened the back of the car, plopping himself in the back to wait for Sam, smiling as he remembered meeting him for the first time, right in the back of his car.

He saw Blaine loitering by his car and waved him over for some company while they waited for their significant others. The dark haired boy clambered into the back of his Lincoln and sat cross-legged. "Are you and Puck doing anything tonight?" he asked.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, we're going to the coffee shop and then to see a midnight movie. You?"

"We're going to that spot, you know? And I'm going to give him his present."

The shorter boy smiled at him happily and stretched his legs out. They chatted lightly until they saw Puck, Sam, and Finn making their way towards his SUV. The boys hopped out and Kurt closed his trunk before meeting them halfway.

Puck grabbed Blaine and goosed him, causing the olive-skinned boy to yelp and blush. Finn looked mildly uncomfortable but said nothing. The two called their goodbyes and made their way to Blaine's Mercedes. He turned to Finn.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Kurt asked, letting Sam pull him against his side.

The gangly boy shrugged. "Azimio is having a party but… I don't really wanna go. I think I'm just going to head home and play Xbox."

Kurt nodded but spared a moment to feel bad for his brother-to-be. Since Rachel had ended things and Finn finally, _finally_ stood up for what's right, he'd run out of friends. Puck was nearly always off with Blaine and he and Finn didn't really have anything in common.

A thought occurred to him. "Hey," he said brightly. "Why don't you ask Artie if he'd like come?"

Finn looked surprised before smiling gratefully. "Yeah, that sounds awesome, we never hang!" He spotted the boy wheeling out from the lockers and bid them goodbye, jogging off to their bespectacled friend.

"That was nice," Sam murmured into his temple.

The slim boy shrugged, suddenly bashful. "I can tell he's lonely. Since Tina and Artie split, I know he has been too."

The blond smiled and squeezed him tight for a moment before nudging him towards the passenger side. "In you go," he said, having to drive since Kurt wasn't familiar with that side of town.

The boys were comfortably silent as they drove towards the grove, as Kurt had started to call it. They finally came to a halt in front of the moss covered tree trunk that marked their place. Kurt grabbed the canvas bag that had their snack and Sam's present in it while the blond snagged the giant plaid blanket Kurt nicked from the closet before the game.

They tromped through the thick grass and Sam wrapped them in the blanket like had last time before they settled against the trunk.

"What's all this?" Sam asked, gesturing at the khaki colored bag.

Kurt smiled and rifled through the sack. "Just some snacks. I figured you'd be hungry after the game."

Sam beamed at him and wrapped his arms around him like a squid, making it difficult for the pale teen to unload the bag. Kurt giggled and finally emerged victorious, a Coleman lantern in his fist. He flicked it one and their spot was light by the gently glow of the lamp.

"You think of everything," Sam whispered as the slender boy lit a citronella candle.

Kurt just shrugged, almost regretting the lamp since it made the blush on his cheeks all the more visible. Sam pressed teasing kissed under his ears and on his neck making Kurt squirm and the ticklish sensation.

He giggled as Sam pressed him into the ground, pulling the blanket over their heads and making an impromptu fort. Kurt's arms were trapped at his sides and Sam seemed bent on tormenting, tickling him mercilessly.

He wiggled and tried to escape, all to no avail. "Stop stop stop!" he cried between his laughter. "I can't breathe!"

Sam's tortuous fingers went from tickling to soothing, petting down his side soothingly. "Sorry," he said softly, eyes shining with uncertainty, chin resting on Kurt' shoulder.

The Coleman lamp shined through the thin blanket, making shadows play on Sam's attractive face. "S'okay," Kurt replied quietly, leaning up and brushing his nose against Sam's in an Eskimo kiss. It had been a while, since he knew the blond teen didn't want to hurt his admittedly still-sore nose.

Sam happily nuzzled back before pulling them upright and uncovering their heads from the blanket. Kurt sighed massively before reaching forward and pulling out the tiny folding tray and snapping the legs into place.

He grabbed the homemade hummus and pitas along with the fruit salad and spread it out. "Eat," he commanded, nibbling on a piece of pineapple.

The quarterback dug in, humming appreciatively and jokingly feeding Kurt so he wouldn't have to unbundle from the blankets keeping out the night chill.

"I get so chilly," Kurt said, teeth chattering lightly.

Sam's lips pursed into a tense line and he raised his eyebrows significantly. "I've already said my piece about that, so I'll just keep quiet."

The fair teen rolled his eyes. "Between you, Carole, my father, and Rachel, I'm going to lose my mind. Gaining ten pounds isn't going to make me warmer."

"Maybe not," Sam relented, not wanting to be that pushy boyfriend that tries to dictate their partner's appearance. "But I wouldn't feel like I was going to break you if I squeezed too hard." He shrugged, not wanting to argue.

He licked the remaining hummus off his fingers and stretched, patting his stomach contentedly. Kurt's tense face melted and he brushed a sweet kiss to Sam's cheek. "All done?" he asked.

Sam nodded so Kurt scooted forward, cleaning up their tiny picnic efficiently and storing it back in the bag. He made sure Sam's gift(s) were on top and pulled out a thermos. He'd taken a page from Starbuck's recipe book and made a salted-caramel hot chocolate for the two of them to share.

The blond practically drooled when Kurt told him what it was and kissed his enthusiastically. "You're gonna spoil me! I don't think I eat this well at home."

Kurt nudged him and felt himself blush to the tips of his ears. "Hush, I've had your mom's cooking so I know that's not true. But thank you."

Sam kissed him, sugary sweet with a hint of the buttery, salty tang of caramel. They sipped the hot chocolate, Kurt bundled into the taller boy's side, chilly nose tucked under his chin. As Sam screwed the lid back onto the metal thermos the thin boy snagged the canvas sack with his foot and drew it close.

The tanned teen chuckled and handed the jug to his companion. All that was left was for Kurt to give Sam his gift and he was getting more nervous as the time went by. Eleanor was sort of the greatest gift ever, not that it was a competition, but he was worried. This _was_ the first time he'd had to buy a gift for someone so import that _wasn't_ his father.

He faced the blond boy and worried his lip. "I, um, have your present with me."

Sam smiled, all little kid enthusiasm, and shook Kurt's knee excitedly. "You do?"

"Mmhm," he mumbled quietly. He pulled out two wrapped gifts and first handed a flat, square package to the boy. "This first."

Sam caresses the paper reverently. Kurt had found a lilac lace print wrapping paper, thick and without sheen, to wrap them in. He was hesitant to wrap his gifts in something so kitschy but he loved it, so there.

The blond gently peeled the paper from what turned out to be a record. Since Kurt had found out he had a record player he'd been scouring the internet and any record store or pawn shop for Elvis records, one of Sam's favorite artists.

Apparently, you can't consider yourself a proper southern boy without a fine appreciation of The Man from Memphis. Kurt had found a copy of his first, self-titled album, one he knew that Sam did not already own.

"Where did you find this?" Sam asked, awed.

Kurt chuckled, slightly abashed. "A yard sale, actually. The elderly gentleman down the street was clearing out his attic to make a nursery for his grandson and I stopped by, hoping to pick up some of his old coats."

Mr. Bergman grew up in the 1950's and he had some excellent vintage winter-wear; even straight men were fabulous back then. He'd literally jumped for joy when he saw the pristine album, sitting in a Tupperware of like items.

He'd snatched the album and carried it around with him, frightened someone would take it home before he was able to look through his selection of pea coats.

"This is so great," Sam said quietly, eyes focusing on the track list. "My parents are going to be so jealous."

Kurt smiled, glad his first gift could be considered a success. He was significantly more nervous about the guitar picks since they were quite a bit more sentimental. "Okay, now this," he said, handing him the wrapped box.

He'd found a green and gold gilded box at Mr. Bergman's and thought that it was a perfect place to store the guitar picks, operating under the assumption that he might not lose them if he had a place to keep them.

Predictably, Sam shook the container gently and frowned, perplexed, as the picks rattled and clacked against one another. He ripped off the paper and ran his fingers over the gilded box before popping the little golden latch in the shape of a leaf.

Sam's face softened in surprise. "How did you—are these—are they all different?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied simply.

Sam cupped his palm and poured the plastic triangle into his hand. Of course, he immediately went for the warm, burgundy pick that had _Happy Anniversary_ printed on it in gold ink and his own handwriting. The blond rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger gently before he closed his fist around them.

"Thank you," he said, voice gruff and emotional. He pulled back and kissed Kurt harshly, making the faint bruises on his face ache but the fair teen wouldn't have it any other way.

He let go with one final peck and went through the picks one by one, dropping them back in the box as he went. "I never wanna lose these," he said resolutely.

Kurt just smiled and cuddled into his side, watching as Sam went through the tiny triangles. He finally looked at the last one (a yellow pick with the Autobots insignia on it) and locked the box up tight.

He wrapped his arms around Kurt and fell backwards, drawing the light teen down on top of him. He laid his head over Sam's heart and inhaled deeply, smiling at the familiar scent of Old Spice. Before they could get too comfortable, Kurt's cell phone alarm went off, playing his father's ringtone.

 _To Sir with Love_ filled the air and they both sighed regretfully and levered themselves into a sitting position. Kurt was supposed to be home by one and that was to signal it was 12:15, giving them time to arrive without having to speed. Mr. Hummel was sure to appreciate safe driving.

They loaded up the car and Kurt made his way to Sam's to drop him off, sharing a languorous kiss with him over the arm rest.

"Bye, baby," Sam breathed, clutching his gifts. "See you tomorrow?"

Kurt nodded and pulled Sam in for one last kiss. "As long as you don't watching me up to my elbows in wedding stuff. I really need to start planning; my dad should be up to it in the next few months and I know he and Carole don't want a very long engagement."

"Whatever you want," the blond replied, grinning happily. "Now go, before you're late and your dad really _does_ lock you away in a tower."

Kurt rolled his eyes but did anyway. He wouldn't put it past his father to do something like that, even in jest. He arrived home with seven minutes to spare and entered the house as quietly as possible.

The lights were all off but there was a soft glow coming from the direction of the living room, probably his father watching TV while waiting up for him. Kurt was torn between sighing in exasperation and tearing up. Even a heart attack couldn't prevent Burt Hummel from making sure his son got home safe.

His assumption was correct. His father was bundled up on the couch watching _Iron Chef_ and glancing at the clock every three seconds.

"Hey, Daddy," Kurt said quietly, hoping not to startle his father.

Burt looked over and smiled tiredly. "Hey, Bambi. Good time?"

Kurt nodded gently and curled up next to his dad. "Yeah, it was a really good game. Well, I think," he admitted, knowing less than nothing about football. "Did Finn not tell you about it?"

"Nah," he said. "I was asleep when he came by to talk to his mom. He went to that Abrams kid's house for the night."

"You'll be able to go to the games again in no time," Kurt promised.

Burt chuckled and wrapped an arm around his slender son. "With you taking such good care of me, I don't doubt that at all." His dad yawned widely and belatedly tried to cover his mouth with his sluggish limbs.

Kurt snagged the remote and turned off the TV. "Let's get you to bed."

He helped his father stand up and shuffle down the hall to the spare room. Once he was tucked in and Kurt made sure he had enough water and medicine for the night he made his way down to his basement.

Eleanor was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs and she wound herself around his legs as he walked around his room getting ready for bed. He dabbed on some more Vitamin E cream (it really _was_ working) and plopped into bed.

He snatched the ostrich feather he'd bought for Eleanor and played with her for a few moments, dangling the feather just out of reach before making it quiver near her face and tummy. When she finally captured it and proceeded to chew on it vengefully he grabbed his phone and clicked on the message he saw waiting for him.

He blinked in confusion at the audio file and opened it, waiting for it to buffer completely before pressing play. It was a close up on Sam's had and the first thing Kurt noticed was the he was holding the anniversary pick he'd given him barely an hour ago.

Sam moved away from where he'd propped his iPhone up and smiled nervously, flicking his long bangs out of his eyes. "Sorry if this is terrible," he began, covered in a nervous flush. "I've never really sang to anyone."

Kurt could feel his mouth hanging open. He had a _boyfriend_ that was going to _sing_ to him even though he was completely and obviously and ludicrously nervous about it and Kurt was so charmed he wasn't surprised to feel tears pricking at the backs of his eyes and making his throat tight.

The blond glance down and his guitar and strummed experimentally before taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. "I hope you know this song. I kinda slowed it down and made it acoustic but…yeah."

He began to play and Kurt could tell his was rocking in time to the music. The melody was familiar but he couldn't place it until Sam opened his mouth to sing, soft and sweet and looking at the camera from under his lashes with a nervous smile of his full lips.

It was The Postal Service's _Such Great Heights_ , but slowed down from the original up-tempo, cheery version he knew so well. Kurt was glad that this was a recording because he was too busy staring at Sam's insecure, _perfect_ face to really listen.

Beside him Eleanor purred and rested her head on his shoulder, looking at him with her wide, bottomless eyes. _He's a keeper,_ they said.

"Yeah," he said, petting her fondly and trying to ignore the fact that he was sniffling. "He really is."

* * *

Sam pulled in the Hummel's driveway bright and early on Saturday morning, walking on air. Kurt had called him after he'd watched the super low-res video he'd sent him.

"How are you so perfect?" he'd asked.

Sam just stammered and his face felt as hot as the sun but he'd mumbled something along the lines of "Am not…" and listened to Kurt sighed happily.

Yeah, it was totally worth the embarrassment and nervousness he'd felt while the idea came to him as he showed Blaine his presents. The dark haired boy looked at him with a knowing smile on his face and left without a word.

So maybe Sam was just as extravagant and soppy as Blaine was when it came to romance, they just showed it in different ways. Blaine would move the moon and stars while he wore his emotions and intentions of his sleeve.

Feeling optimistic, he'd packed his guitar in the back of his Camaro. He felt like it had been forever since he'd really committed any time to her (Layla, Clapton reference deliberate) and now all he wanted to do was play. Maybe he'd play for Kurt when he needed a break from dresses and catering and flowers and everything else that went into a wedding.

He texted Kurt that he was here, not wanting to knock when the rest of his family could very well be asleep. As he stepped onto the porch Kurt opened the door and slipped outside into the pleasant morning air.

He grinned radiantly and pulled Sam into a hug, kissing the side of his neck in greeting. The blond returned the embrace and rubbed his cheek on the top of Kurt's head. "Mornin', sweetheart."

The fair boy pulled back and smiled in interest when he saw Sam's unshaved face. "What's this?" he asked, gently running his fingers over the stubble.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "My razor broke," he explained. "I didn't have any disposable ones so I have to pick up another one later. Sorry if it's itchy, I'll keep my face to myself," he joked.

Kurt rolled his eyes and took his hand, opening the door. "Don't be ridiculous. A little stubble isn't going to chafe my flawless skin," he said, batting his eyelashes coquettishly. He ruined the effect by giggling as he led Sam into the kitchen.

"Hope you're hungry," he said quietly, confirming Sam's theory that his family was asleep.

Sam nodded emphatically. "It smells great."

Kurt flushed a fetching shade of pink at the compliment and finished plating what appeared to be bacon and sausages. He placed them on the table along with eggs and home fries with onions and toast.

Sam patted himself on the back for not drooling and looked up at Kurt with a smile. "Thanks," he said. "You know you don't have to do this."

Kurt placed his napkin in his lap and served himself some eggs. "I like to. Besides, don't you know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach?"

The taller teen chuckled. "I think I have heard that once or twice. At this rate, if you keep feeding me, I'm going to start stalking you and making a shrine like Helga from _Hey, Arnold_."

Kurt nearly snorted his orange juice and gave a Sam a playful kick under the table. "Well, don't be so sure today," he said guilty. "The sausage and bacon are vegetarian since my dad needs to eat healthier."

Sam took a bite of the sausage and shrugged. "I can't tell the difference." Even if he could he would have kept his mouth shut because you don't complain when your boyfriend or mother or aunt or anyone cooks something specifically for you without prompting. Rude, much?

When breakfast was finished and the dishes cleared away they headed downstairs (door open!) where Kurt had all his wedding planning books and magazines spread over the rug. Eleanor was draped across them, stretching out and mussing them up hopelessly.

Kurt laughed and knelt down to scritch her belly. He sat with is back against the bed and pulled her into his lap. "Hey, little girl," He cooed. "Did you have fun messing up all my piles?"

Eleanor just purred and smiled her smug cat smile before curling up with her head cushioned on her paws.

"So," Sam began. "What are you doing? I have no idea what needs to be one to plan a wedding."

Kurt sighed massively. "So much," he said tiredly. "But it's worth it. Carole and I are going to look at dresses after school on Monday, and that's most her decision. We have the place picked out, The Winston House, that plantation looking place, you know?"

Sam nodded dutifully and paid attention. Marriage was still a long ways off no matter _who_ he was with but this was something he should probably know, especially since it was so important to Kurt.

"They're getting married on the balcony and then moving inside for the reception. The venue will take car of set up and break down, so I just need to take care of flowers, catering, and the cake. Shoot, and pictures."

"Wow," Sam said. "That's… a lot."

Kurt nodded and pulled his laptop towards him. "Yes," he said absently. "And I still have to make cake samples."

Sam brightened. "Cake samples?"

Kurt smiled slyly. "Yes, cake samples. I trust people to make healthy _food_ to eat at the wedding, we have a few tastings lined up, but I don't trust them to make a cake Carole and my father will like, so I am."

"And when might you be making these cake samples?" Sam asked, completely transparent and not caring a little bit.

"Well, I have to go shopping still, but most likely tomorrow," he said, eying the recipes and making calculations in his head. He wanted to make small cakes, each two layers so he could practice the fillings as well as the cakes and frostings themselves. "Maybe today," he amended. "It's gonna be a bit time consuming. Are you volunteering to help taste test?"

The blond nodded solemnly. "I'm willing to suffer to for such a noble cause."

Kurt scoffed and hit him on the shoulder with a thick Southern Bride magazine. "I'll show you suffering!" he growled.

Sam laughed and easily caught Kurt's wrist, toppling them both onto their sides and pressing soothing kisses over Kurt's knuckles. He pulled the thin boy forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

The fair teen pulled back and ran his index finger of his scruff again. "I can't grow a beard," he remarked softly.

"At all?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, I don't even get whiskers."

"Consider yourself lucky. At least you'll never get razor burn on your face," Sam said frankly.

"I dunno," Kurt began. "I kinda like it on you, like, for a change. I think I'd miss your face if you kept it too long, but it's kinda… sexy."

"Really?" Sam asked wickedly, voice dropping low and smoky.

The pale teen blushed and hid his face behind their joined hands. "Yeah."

"Why thank you, darlin'" Sam replied, affecting an exaggerated southern drawl and tipping an imaginary hat.

Kurt burst into giggles and pushed at Sam, mooshing his hands over that damned attractive face. "Samuel Jordan Evans, you are such a ham!"

Sam flicked his tongue out and licked at the palm of Kurt's hand covering his mouth. The slender teen shrieked in indignation, grabbing a pillow near the end of the bed and thumping him over the head. The blonde's hands darted out and tickled Kurt in retribution, making him shriek once again.

Their play-fight was cut short but a quiet knock and a smiling Carole and the top of the stairs. "Kurt Hummel, is that you I hear laughing this early in the morning?"

The teens reluctantly separated and Kurt made an apologetic face at his future step-mother. "Sorry, Carole. I hope I didn't wake you."

She shook her head and wrapped her thin lilac robe around herself a bit tighter. "Not at all, sweetheart. I just went into the kitchen and saw your note and wanted to say thanks for making breakfast."

Kurt smiled. "You're welcome."

The kind woman looked to Sam and smiled. "Nice to see you, honey. Don't be a stranger."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She clicked her tongue and placed a hand on her hip. "You're such a polite young man, but call me Carole."

"Yes, ma—Carole."

She noticed the wedding magazines all over the floor and her face softened further. "You're workin' so hard. I'll let you get back to work. Just call me if you need anything."

She gave them a little wave and closed the door halfway as she returned to the kitchen. Kurt inhaled deeply and forced himself to sit up. He reached for his laptop once more and browsed recipes, leaning against Sam's broad chest.

He attempted to ask Sam's opinion on flavors but it rapidly became clear that the boy was willing and eager to eat anything Kurt made.

"Your sweet tooth is showing," Kurt teased.

Sam nodded and rubbed his hands over Kurt's side. The slender teen looked up at Sam inquisitively.

"Did any of the flavors stick out or are you just trying to get me to make twenty little cakes?"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Caught me." He pushed his bangs out of his face and seriously considered the question. "I think my two favorites were the lemon and strawberry one 'cause it reminds me of the cake you made when you had dinner with my folks, and the tiramisu one with the lady fingers all around the outside and the fruit on top."

Kurt felt his heart miss a beat when Sam mentioned the cake he'd made for the dinner he'd attended to meet his parents. How could he say no to logic like that? "Well, I guess I could make them both," he said shyly.

Sam simply pulled him closer. "Yum."

By 10:30 they were out the door and making the rounds to all the health food stores in the area looking for the ingredients needed for the healthy cakes Kurt was hoping to make. It took the better part of four hours and by the time they had finished they were both famished.

Sam convinced him to indulge and they went through a Sonic for burgers. Well, Sam got a burger; Kurt got french fries and a chocolate shake to dip them in as well as some cherry limeade. They sat in his car and munched happily, Sam keeping Kurt's mind off the calories for the first time.

By the time they got back to Kurt's house the two of them were bouncing from their sugar high and unloaded the Navigator in record time.

Kurt printed out the recipes and worried his lip as he thought about how long this was going to take him. "We won't get to the tasting until tomorrow," he warned.

"Darn" Sam deadpanned. "I guess I'll have to see you again tomorrow. How terrible."

The think boy scoffed and hit him with a dish towel. "Sass," he declared.

The muscular teen just smiled angelically and rested his cheek on his hand. Kurt retrieved his apron from the pantry and secured it around his waist and neck. He thought the ruffles made him look ridiculous but from the heat in Sam's eyes, he was willing to bet his boyfriend would use a different adjective to describe what he looked like.

He allowed himself to put a little extra sway in his walk, pretending to be unaware to Sam's lascivious gaze. He let the blond look his fill until he became worried Carole, or worse, his father, might see. He turned and flicked flour into Sam's face.

"Well?" he asked mock-peevishly. "Are you going to help? Or just stare?"

Sam smiled devilishly. "Is 'just staring' really an option?"

"No," he said, jabbing at his defined chest with a wooden spoon. "Bring me eggs. And milk. And the vanilla."

Sam laughed and went to the fridge, rummaging inside. Kurt's own eyes roved over the blonde's toned body and he felt himself become hot under the collar and one thing became certain.

He was going to have to have a talk with Carole.

* * *

It was 9:23 pm and Sam had left approximately twenty-one minutes ago to have a late dinner with his family. Each cake was baked and sitting upstairs, ready to be filled and frosted tomorrow morning.

He'd gone downstairs to wash off all the flour and butter and sugar that had "accidentally" made its way all over him courtesy of Sam's so-called clumsiness. Kurt was pretty sure Sam just wanted to see if he could catch him licking his fingers or arm again.

Now he was quietly padding upstairs and this was the first time that he was semi-grateful for the fact that his father was tired due to his recent heart attack and system full of medicine.

He had his arguments and facts straight and was ready for the second most-dreaded conversation to have with a parental unit. The first was the "I'm pregnant" talk. _This_ was the "I want to be on birth control so I _don't_ get pregnant" talk.

He wanted to approach Carole first, as someone that may have been on the pill before and be a little more sympathetic to his cause, and then talk to his father.

He peeked into the spare room and noticed that his father was sound asleep, the remnants of his dinner on the nightstand. Kurt took the tray into the kitchen where Carole was reading a paperback romance with a cup of tea.

She smiled when she saw him and gestured to the freshly brewed coffee in the pot. He smiled gratefully, if a little tensely, and placed the dishes in the sink before pouring himself a cup and sitting across from Carole with a slice of pound cake he'd baked earlier that afternoon.

He picked at the orange pound cake fretfully until Carole smiled knowingly and marked her place with a corner of her unused napkin. "Is there something on your mind, Kurt?"

"Uh," he began anxiously. "Yeah."

"What is it, sweetheart? You look ill."

"I've been thinking…" he said haltingly.

"You've been thinking…?" she parroted when it was clear he wasn't going to continue.

"I wanted to talk to you about it first because I thought you might… understand… a little bit better than my dad. I'm sorry if it's inappropriate or something, but I just don't really know what to say to my dad…"

Carole reached across the table and took his hand. "Just tell me, honey. I won't be mad. You know I'm here for you."

"I was thinking that maybe… I should… consider going on birth control. Maybe? We—we're not having sex now!" he rushed to clarifying, cringing when his voice was a bit louder than intended. "But, um, I think it's going there, um, eventually. Soon? Soonish. And I know that it takes a little time to like, find one that works and be the most effective so I,um, just—yeah."

Carole looked at him and Kurt felt his inside churning in nervous anticipation. He cracked and tiny smile and sniggered under her breath. "Okay."

Kurt was floored. "Wh—okay?"

Carole nodded. "Your father and I actually talked about this, after you came to visit him with Sam. We wanted to agree on what to discuss in case you approached one of us first, and your father wanted information in general."

He felt the breath rush out of him like air form a balloon. "Really?" he asked, weak with relief.

"Yes. I know that your father is probably going to be all awkward about it and try to give you another sex talk in hopes of scaring you away from the idea just so you stay his little boy forever. But," she said, catching his chin in her hand. " _But_ , we're both really proud of you for being responsible and honest and safe."

He nodded dumbly, feeling blown away and so lucky to have a family like this.

"Kurt," she said softly. "I'm a nurse. I see teenage girls and, yes, even the occasional boy, come in all the time because they were foolish or scared to talk to their parents or just plain uninformed or just so sure that it wouldn't happen to them. What were the chances, right? But, we know you are going to be smart and make smart, healthy decisions, and we respect that. We respect you. You are a young man now, and you can make your own choices, we're just glad that you're making the right ones."

"Thanks," he breathed. "Wow, I thought this was going to be way worse."

Carole just smiled kindly and squeezed his hand. "Does Sam know you're having this talk?" she asked curiously.

"No," he admitted. "We've…talked, and we both decided we're not ready, but that it is a possibility, like, in the near future. I—I really like him."

"Maybe even love him?" she asked gently.

Kurt flushed and nodded. "I think so."

"That's all parents can ask for. He seems like a very nice young man with a good head on his shoulders and every time I see him look at you it's like he's seeing you for the first time and he can't believe what's in front of him. He treats you right and he makes you happy. What else is there?"

Kurt gave Carole a watery smile and got up from his chair to hug her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, inhaling the comforting scent of _Givenchy_ and tea. "Thank you."

She hugged him back and pressed him into the chair, pushing his pound cake towards him with a pointed look. "We'll go to the doctor's sometime this week, alright?"

Kurt nodded around the bite of thick, sweet cake. "Yes, please."

They moved on to lighter topics of conversation, like what kind of dress she wanted to wear on her big day. Luckily, they were both in agreement about what kind of dressed would look great on her as well as against the backdrop of the plantation-style estate.

The clock struck eleven and they both sighed, knowing it was time for bed. They cleaned up their cups and napkins and tinkered about the kitchen, tidying it up. Kurt grabbed Carole one last time and gave her a hug, resting his head against her shoulder.

"Thank you…mom," he said, feeling it was the right time.

When they broke apart Carole was choking back tears and she ran her fingers through his hair maternally. "Don't thank me just yet," she whispered thickly. "You still have to tell your father and that's _all_ you, sweetheart."


	23. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's get right to it, shall we? This chapter is dedicated to **JRoss** , because they never fail to leave me awesome, detailed reviews, and **Onyx Nailo** , my new internet spouse. Internet bigamy is so 21st century, don't you think?

Kurt was traumatized. Traumatized, okay? Who knew that someone confined to a bed for the foreseeable future could do so much damage?

His father had bought him books, _freaking books_ , on the wonders and joys of gay sex and what every gay teen should know and a special one for carriers which description could be summed up as _Don't be a Slut: Beware Baby-Hungry Men_.

Apparently, his father had found them online and since he's had ample to time thumb through them he had an awful lot to say, the most important thing being that A) _yes_ , he could go on birth control and B) if he caught Kurt having sex he wouldn't be responsible for his actions against "that Sam kid".

Kurt said that was fair and took the books and locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. He was blushing so hard his cheeks were still hot when he laid down to go to bed, though that could have had something to do with the fact he'd browsed through the books as was startled to find out some of them had graphic, detailed images and descriptions of various sexual acts.

And pregnancy. And birth. Yeah, those were less fun and almost scared him away from Sam's full lips and amazing fingers. Almost.

He hadn't told Sam that he was going to approach his parents about birth control for their hypothetical sex lives but now he wanted to call him and make him share in the embarrassment he'd had to endure.

He grabbed his iPhone and pressed Sam's speed dial, hoping that he wasn't about to wake the boy. Belatedly, he thought that perhaps this was a conversation they should have in person before remembering that his blond boyfriend was going to be over tomorrow to taste cakes and he'd have to sit with his entire family that now knew Kurt want to be on anti-baby pills so he could have sex with the incredibly virile looking young man their son was dating.

Yeah, his timing could have been a little better on this one. Like, maybe for when Sam was going on vacation for a week…

Sam answered on the third ring, thankfully sounding wide awake. _"Hey, baby!"_

Kurt smiled. He had such a weakness when it came to this boy. Whoever would have guessed simple and sweet would have been his type?

"Hey, Sam," he said bashfully. "Um, I kinda need to tell you something."

" _Uh, should I be nervous?"_ he asked. _"The last time you called and said that it was to tell me Edison ambushed you by your car."_

Kurt exhaled deeply. "I might be a little nervous if I were you," he admitted. '"But no, nothing bad happened to me." _But it might happen to you…_ he thought nervously.

" _Tell me, babe. What's up?"_

"Okay," he began. "Do you remember how we had that talk…about sex?" he asked.

" _Kinda hard to forget,"_ Sam teased.

Kurt blushed even further. At this rate, he'd still be red come Monday morning. "Well, I know we said weren't ready yet, but I figured it was best to take precautions for when we were. Ready, that is."

There was a drawn-out pause on the other end of the line. _"Ohh…kay? I don't really know where you're going with this…"_

"I asked my parents if I could go on birth control. They said yes."

" _Oh,"_ the blond replied calmly, like Kurt called and told him things like this every day. _"Well, that's good, right?"_

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Yes, Sam, it's a good thing. But did you miss the part where I talked to my _parents_ about being on _birth control_?"

" _Um…"_ he said, clearly trying to puzzle through Kurt's frantic logic.

" _Sam_ ," he breathed. "I talked to my parents about being on birth control which pretty much gives them an idea of when we're going to have sex and _how_ and tomorrow you are supposed to come over and sit at the kitchen table with them and eat cakes while the entire time they know that _you're_ the boy that is going to deflower _their_ little boy in any of the numerous ways depicted in the damn book they bought me!"

" _They bought you a book with gay sex pictures?"_ he asked. Clearly his subconscious panic was rendering Sam unable of rational thought.

"SAM!" he snarled, exasperated. "My parents know that the days of my virginity are numbered and _you_ are the reason said virtue is going to be compromised!"

" _Oh,"_ he said weakly. Then, _"_ _ **Oh**_."

* * *

Kurt had finished putting the final touch on the tiramisu cake when there came a quiet knock on the door.

 _Sam_ , Kurt thought fondly. After the tall teen finally realized the terrible, awkward situation Kurt had managed to put them in he'd become nearly hysterical with fear. Not that he was going to be seen as the harbinger of sex and perversion, no, but that it would affect his status as a gentleman in their eyes.

Kurt had tried to soothe him as best he could over the phone and could only hope that the temptation of baked goods was enough to smooth over any uncomfortableness that thinking about your child and sex in the same sentence brought.

He tip-toed to the door, apron still on, and quietly pulled it open. He made a shooing motion at the sun kissed teen and slipped onto the porch for a proper hello.

Tension was singing through Sam's formidable body but when Kurt hugged him he could feel him relax in increments until he was the cheery guy Kurt had know to know and care for.

Kurt surged up on his toes for a kiss and then led him into the house. They walked into the kitchen and Sam immediately went to investigate the cakes he'd set out on the counter.

"Mmm," he said, eyes widening in delight. "They all look so good."

Kurt nodded with some pride. "I only hope they all _taste_ good."

"I'm sure they will," Sam replied confidently.

Kurt flushed a soft pink before untying his apron and hanging it back on the hook. "Well, try to restrain yourself from tasting early while I go get every one."

"Everyone," Sam parroted nervously.

"Uh, did I forget to tell you Finn was here?" he asked guiltily.

Sam nodded gravely and sank into the nearest chair. "Does he…know?"

"NO," Kurt said firmly. "No no no. If he did I would have told you not to come. I don't think anyone could survive that much embarrassment."

The tall teen breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Kurt weakly. "Well, go get everyone," he commanded playfully. "I wanna eat those cakes!"

Kurt waggled a finger at him sternly and went to retrieve his family from the spare bedroom where Finn and Burt we're watching a game and Carole was reading a wedding magazine.

"Cakes are done," he called, smiling at the domestic picture they painted. "Sam's here too," he added before turning tail and scurrying back to the kitchen.

He breezed back into the kitchen and saw the tanned teen hadn't moved from his place at the table. He patted Sam's blond head teasingly and darted away from the tickle-hands that boy was making in retribution for being patted like a puppy.

Kurt giggled and set the coffee pot on the table along with a small teapot for Carole and milk for Finn and his father.

Burt shuffled into the kitchen and slid into the closest seat, Carole next to him. Finn chose to sit next to Sam and Kurt nearly wilted with relief as he began to transfer all the little cake-rounds to the table so his parents could see what the cake looked like before it was cut up into tiny pieces. He explained each one before cutting them all up and putting them on plates and letting the tasting commence.

He took his seat between Sam and his father (to prevent possible maiming/humiliation) and daintily bit into sugary confections. He knew, a soon as he made it, that the lemon one was going to be his favorite, after what Sam had said but the chocolate mint ganache was proving a close second.

Underneath the table the blonde's foot wound around his ankle when he bit into the citrusy cake and they shared an affectionate look under his father's weighty stare. Finn was maddeningly unhelpful, loving everything, but a wonderful ego boost.

Ultimately, the decision lie with Carole and his father and the two debated the pros and cons of each cake while Finn polished off the remainders on everyone's plates as well as the unsliced portions. He turned to Sam.

"What was your favorite?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

The boy grinned sweetly. "The lemon."

Kurt smiled and blushed, trying to hide his flushing cheeks from his parents. "Mine too."

Feeling brave, Kurt reached under the table and covered the hand resting on Sam's thigh with his own, smiling. His father cleared his throat and the pale teen jumped guiltily. He turned to face his parents with a bright, fake smile and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Well, you made the decision hard, kid," his father said, making happiness bubble up in Kurt's chest. "But I think we made a choice.

"We _love_ the tiramisu cake," Carole gushed. "It's rich, but supper fluffy, and it really matches the theme of the wedding."

Kurt nodded and Carole turned to look at her son. "Finn, what did you think?"

He looked up from polishing off the chocolate cake and swallowed slowly. "Uh, which cake was that?"

"The one with the lady fingers," Kurt clarified. At Finn's bewildered (and slightly panicked) look, he smiled. 'The cookies, Finn."

"Oh," he replied, grinning goofily. "Yeah, that one was really good."

The slim teen smiled in response and then the group looked at Sam.

"I love tiramisu," he said. "The berries were awesome in it; I've never had it like that before."

"Sam suggested the tiramisu cake," Kurt said. "I don't know that I would have made it otherwise; I was worried it would be too unusual."

Now, hopefully they'd think about Sam as the kid that picked their wedding cake, and not the kid that their son wants to sleep with. Hopefully.

Burt nodded and gratitude and Carole looked suitably impressed. "Tiramisu it is," she said. "Do you think you can make it big enough for the wedding? I don't want you to agree to it if it's going to be too hard because you want to make us happy."

Kurt assured Carole that he could take care of it without a problem. "I just might need a helping hand when I'm mixing things up in the beginning. My arms got tired just mixing that." He finished his sentence and looked at Sam expectantly.

"Sure," the blond said with a smile. "I'd love to help."

He then looked at Finn. "Uh, dude, you know I'd help, but do you _really_ want me to?"

Kurt remembered Finn trying to make pancakes this past week and the resulting batter explosion. "You're right," he said, laughing good-naturedly. "But thanks."

His father yawned and shifted uncomfortably. Kurt felt his caretaker instincts kick in and he reached over to rub his arm. "Why don't you go lay down, Daddy?" he suggested softly. "I'll bring you some soup."

He nodded tiredly and let Carole help him up from his chair and down the hall. Kurt gathered the plate and empty cake stands and slipped them into the sink. "I know we just had cake, but do you guys want grilled cheese? I was going to heat up tomato soup for my dad."

Finn nodded eagerly, licking frosting off his fingers. Sam just nodded minutely, resting his head on his hand and mouthing "Thanks, baby".

Kurt winked and got out a skillet in addition to the pot he'd need for the soup. The two football players chatted about practice and their hopes for the next game and Kurt had a moment to think about how far they'd all come while he stirred and sizzled.

He brought his father and Carole some soup and herbal tea before bustling back to the kitchen. "Living room?" he asked.

The boys nodded enthusiastically and Kurt called "No sports!" after Finn's retreating form. The coast clear, Sam stood from the table and embraced Kurt form behind. "Hey," he said.

Kurt leaned back into his defined chest. "Hi."

"Have I told you how awesome you are today?" Sam whispered against his ear.

The slim boy shrugged coyly and turned around to tuck his nose against the hollow of Sam's throat. "I don't think so…"

The tall teen chuckled and took Kurt's shin between his fingers, angling his face up for a leisurely kiss. He smiled into Sam's lips and wrapped his arms around his waist, fingers plucking at the thin material of his shirt.

"Hey—oh!" Finn walked into the kitchen and immediately halted, casting his eyes to the floor. "Uh, sorry. Just wanted to know if _Planet Earth_ was okay."

The couple grudgingly separated and Sam grabbed the tray piled with grilled cheese sandwiches and rich tomato soup. "Yeah, sound good," he replied nonchalantly, walking into the living room.

Kurt smiled shyly and followed the tall boy into the living room. Finn sat on the far end of the couch, giving the couple ample space. His awkwardness dissipated as soon as he bit into his soup-dipped sandwich.

"This is awesome, Kurt," he exclaimed. "I _love_ grilled cheese. Thanks!"

Kurt huffed a laugh. "I know," he said, remembering the Great Grilled Cheesus Revelation. "You're welcome."

Sam handed him a bowl of soup and a sandwich triangle before grabbing some for himself and settling back into the couch, positioning himself so Kurt could cuddle into his side if he liked.

He knew that the blond wouldn't be offended if he didn't, in deference to Finn and his father being present, albeit down the hall, which made he want to do it all the more. He snuggled in close, his movement catching Finn's eye.

The gangly boy looked over at them and met Kurt's eye. He smiled tentatively, looking at the two of them together before returning his attention to the TV.

Kurt let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He ate his lunch and focused on the deep sea creatures being revealed, hypnotized by their graceful movements.

Too soon, it was time for Sam to go home, having promised his father he would help him in the office that evening. Strangely, Finn offered to take their dishes to the kitchen while Kurt walked the other boy out. He stammered his thanks and followed the tan boy out onto the porch.

"I wish I could stay longer," Sam said. "But I really need to help my dad. It's really good experience."

Kurt nodded. "I do too, but you need to go. Besides, I'll see you tomorrow," he consoled.

The flaxen haired boy nodded. "So, hey. I have a favor to ask you."

"What is it?" Kurt asked, intrigued.

"You can totally say no," Sam said. "But, this weekend, I promised my mom I would take care of the garden; the new stuff she planted and the stuff that's ready to be picked. Do you wanna come keep me company? I know it's gonna be hot, and you burn really easy, so if you—"

"Of course," he interrupted. "Sounds fun."

Sam beamed at him and pulled him into a hug. "Are you sure?" he questioned. "I checked the forecast and so far it says it's gonna be really sunny."

Kurt shrugged. "I'll wear a hat. And something I don't mind getting dirty."

The muscular boy peppered light kisses over the bridge of his nose. "You're perfect."

Kurt playfully scuffed his foot on the porch floor and looked at Sam from under his lashes. "I try."

It got its intended result and Sam laughed, pressing a jubilant kiss to his lips before hopping off the steps.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Kurt called, watching Sam pull down the drive before walking back in the house.

He heard the faucet in the kitchen sink running and went to investigate. Finn was scrubbing at the bowls, caked on soup proving stubborn. Kurt smiled before shooing him to the side so he could get under the sink, pulling out a Brillo pad.

"Try this," he suggested.

Finn nodded in gratitude and continued cleaning the dishes from lunch and their earlier cake tasting while Kurt wiped off the counter and table. The tall boy turned off the sink and turned around, leaning against the counter.

"Kurt," he began haltingly. "I just wanted to say sorry, about earlier."

The fair teen narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What about earlier?" he asked, perplexed.

Finn tried to sink into himself, an impressive feat for someone so large. "When I walked in on you guys hugging, or whatever. I was… weird."

"Oh," he replied, having forgotten.

"It wasn't because, you know, you're both guys. I'm okay with that now, really," he said adamantly. "He's really nice, and a good quarterback. I was just jealous. I'm—I'm happy you're happy. I just… didn't mean to interrupt. I felt bad for like, interluding, or whatever."

"Intruding," he corrected softly, smiling.

 _These_ were the moments when he remembered why he had that misguided crush on Finn. He harbored absolutely _zero_ romantic feelings for him now, but the boy could be really understanding and kind when he just _thought_ for a moment.

"And thanks, that really means a lot."

Finn smiled and pushed off from the counter. Much to Kurt's chagrin, he ruffled his hair as he went by. He paused and backtracked, face suddenly serious.

"So, yeah. He's really cool and all, but if he makes you cry, I'm gonna beat him up."

Kurt laughed, perhaps a little disbelievingly. "Thanks," he said through his amusement. "That means a lot, too."

* * *

It was 5:30 on a Wednesday and he was sitting in the pharmacy reception area, waiting for his first ever prescription for birth control to be filled.

The room was filled with elderly people and young mothers with children and Kurt could just feel each and everyone one of them _staring_ and _judging_ him and his choices. He was a (nearly) grown man and he would do what he wants, including have responsible safe sex with his boyfriend, thank you very much.

Okay, so maybe he was paranoid, but the elderly lady sitting across from his actually _was_ staringalthough it might have something to do with the fact he was wearing a brooch that looked like a skeleton.

He tried to sigh quietly (and failed) and dug around in his pocket for his phone. He clicked on the last conversation with Jesse and tapped a message.

_I'm going to have an anxiety attack. Distract me, St. James._

He puffed out a breath, the sound akin to a horse's whinny, and went off to peruse the shelves for things he didn't need, but would no doubt buy, as he waited for his prescription to be ready. His phoned pinged with a response and he paused near the hosiery to answer.

_What's wrong, princess?_

Kurt glared at the pantyhose for a moment before typing a response.

_I'm waiting for my birth control prescription and I feel like everyone can tell and thinks that I'm a great big slut_

He jammed his phone into his pocket angrily and stomped away from the pantyhose that were so _totally_ laughing at him. He had no idea why he was in such a snit suddenly, but all he knew was that he needed chocolate covered pretzels and he needed them now.

And a new scarf. And that jacket from the new Carolina Herrera collection. And Eleanor needed a new collar. Hmph!

He phone chimed happily and just made him want to throw it into the coolers that held the frappuccinos he was looking at.

_Woah. Chillax, fancy pants. No one's calling you a slut… Right?_

Kurt sighed and felt the anger go out of him in a rush.

 _No_ he admitted. _I'm just still on edge from the doctor's appointment. Not really comfortable talking about my theoretical sex life with a stranger and then being subtly lectured for "not waiting"_

Yeah, that conversation was less than satisfactory. Carole had gone into the room with him and was much more vocal in her disapproval of Dr. Indigo and his attempts to push abstinence on her child when she was proud of him for making a smart, responsible choice.

Watching her rip the doctor and new one gave Kurt a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. He smiled as he remembered her snatching the prescription out of his hand and then telling the nurse they wouldn't be coming back. His phone pulled him out of his thought with a response from Jesse.

_Whatever, you're awesome and responsible and deserve to get it on with your sweet, blond gentleman caller, after which I expect a call and details of the encounter._

Another text.

_*DETAILS* Many many details._

Kurt laughed so hard he dropped his phone. He picked it up and wiped off floor dust ( _ick!I_ ) and replied.

_Ew, creeper! You'll just have to settle for many details. Many many? What kind of boy do you take me for?_

He grabbed a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, figuring he was allowed to indulge, and a bottle of water before making his way back to the waiting area just as his name was called over the speaker.

He paid for his prescription and snack and declined to a consultation with a pharmacist. He had a Carole, that was good enough for him if he had any questions.

He walked to his car and hopped in the front seat, checking his phone now that he wasn't at the counter (Hello, rude much?).

_I suppose it'll have to do. But seriously Kurt, if you have questions, I'm here._

Kurt replied with a simple _Thanks_ before texting Carole and his father he was on his way home (hopefully _one_ of them would get it) and making his way back to Maison de Hummel.

* * *

Kurt hummed to as he packed up his sheet music, lingering in the practice room after glee rehearsal had finished. This Thursday's practice had _actually_ been productive for once.

They finally managed to decide on a group number for Sectionals, and it was still weeks away. This was a record for New Directions and the positive energy carried through rehearsal. They'd unanimously chosen to do a mash-up of R.E.M.'s _Everybody Hurts_ and Chumbawamba's _Tubthumping (I Get Knocked Down)_.

Sure, they'd argued over who'd take the lead vocals in the group number, but Mr. Schue seemed much more dedicated to a real, fair audition process this year.

Finally.

He waved as Brittany skipped out of the room, hot on Santana's heels. He'd have to corner his blonde gal pal and ask her what was going in with glee's favorite bad girl.

He made a mental note and then sat down at the piano bench, fingers tickling over the tiles. Since he'd gotten that video of Sam singing to him he'd been thinking of how to reciprocate. After countless hours of scouring the internet and various YouTube accounts he finally found the perfect song.

Well, perfect other than the fact that it mentioned the singer in a dress, but whatever, nothing's perfect. He'd printed off the piano music for _Kiss Me_ by Sixpence None the Richer and wanted to get in some practice before he did some of his own serenading.

Some practice that was going to have to wait since the object of his serenade was waltzing into the room, goofy, lopsided smile lighting up his face.

"I hoped I was able to catch you," he said. "Puck said he saw you lingering when he walked back from his locker."

"Did he now?" Kurt questioned coyly.

"Mmhm," Sam replied, hoping on top of the piano and looking down on him fondly. "I wanted to see you. Blaine told me that he was going out with Puck earlier and I wanted to stick around and see you rehearse but Rachel found me and shooed me into the library."

He rolled his eyes. _Rachel_.

"She's convinced everyone is a spy," he explained. "She's worried that someone will record our songs and sell them to our competition."

The tall boy laughed but Kurt's face didn't change. "Wait, seriously?"

Kurt nodded, finally cracking a smile. "Seriously. It's happened actually. More than once; Coach Sylvester."

Sam's hazel-green eyes widened and he whistled, impressed. "That's intense."

"Tell me about it," Kurt deadpanned.

The bronzed boy kicked his legs back and forth, leaning back onto his hands. "So, what are you doing, Can I know? Or will Rachel kill you?"

The fair boy laughed. "It's not for glee," he said. "Sometimes I just like to practice."

Sam nodded and hopped off the piano, pulling the iPod dock that was resting on the piano close. He looked at Kurt and grinned, putting his own iPod in and fiddling with it for a moment before pressing play.

Michael _Bublé's_ version of _Me and Mrs. Jones_ waltzed out of the speakers. He offered his hand to Kurt. "Wanna dance?"

Kurt smiled incredulously, lifting his hand and clasping Sam's, letting himself be pulled from the piano bench. "You can dance? Like this?" he asked. "I mean, to this kind of music?"

Sam just settled his hand on Kurt's waist and pulled him close. "Of course I can. My mom is obsessed with ballroom dancing and so is Blaine. Between the two of them, I managed to pick up a bit," he said, affecting a mock-haughty air.

"I'm shocked," Kurt admitted, chastising himself for casting judgment so swiftly.

The song switched to yet another Michael Bublé cover, this time it was the more up tempo song How Sweet It Is. Sam seamlessly switched to a more swing-esque style, shocking Kurt further and giving him a run for his money.

"I am to please."

The teens danced for a few songs until Sam's phone rang and he looked at Kurt apologetically. "It's my mom," he explained. "Just one second."

Kurt nodded, breathless, and lowered the volume on the stereo. He plopped back down on the bench and gazed at the picture of male perfection leaning against the door jam.

Samuel Jordan Evans he thought, reverently. You are full of surprises.

He hung up his phone and turned around. "Sorry," he said. "My mom wanted me to grab some stuff on the way home."

"Wanna be my date to my dad's wedding?" he blurted. He'd been nervous to ask, since it was about two months away and he didn't want to make plans to far in advance. After this latest surprise, he wasn't able to contain himself.

Sam melted against the piano and actually blushed, quite literally looking tickled pink. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I do."

"Great," Kurt gushed, sure that he was smiling like a loon.

They leaned in to kiss, but were interrupted Kurt's phone this time. "That'll be my dad."

Sam nodded and snatched his iPod up and helped Kurt pack as he answered his phone and assured his father he was on his way.

They walked to the parking lot together and the tall boy pressed and sweet kiss to his hairline, sweeping a hand down his back before striding to his car.

Kurt got in and hand to sit and gather his thoughts before he was collected enough to drive. Yeah, he was definitely recording that song for Sam tonight.

Sam walked in the door feeling pretty smug. He'd seen the way Kurt looked at him when he thought he wasn't looking. Honestly, if he'd know dancing was that big a turn on for the other boy he would have asked him to foxtrot the moment he met him.

* * *

Granted, that may have been awkward on a humid, summer music with a distinct lack of music, but still, a man has to work with the tools he's given.

He placed the groceries on the counter and bussed his mom on the cheek before going upstairs to change into something more comfortable (a bathing suit). "Hey, Mom? Do I have time for a swim before dinner?"

Patricia looked at her son a grinned. "Sure, honey. We're going to be eating outside anyway, so it doesn't matter if you're wet."

After dancing with Kurt he had a lot of excess...*ahem* energy to work off, so he wanted to go for a swim before dinner.

"Thanks, Mama!" he called as he darted up the stairs.

He burst into his room and shucked his clothes quick as a flash before yanking on some white swim trunks and grabbing a towel on the way down to the pool. He waved to his dad sitting in the hammock, a copy of today's paper open to the sports section in his lap.

He draped his towel over a chair and dove in. The sum warmed the water but it still felt magnificent on his skin. He loved the feeling of being weightless and they way that it sluiced over his skin, leaving him feeling blissfully relaxed.

But now was not the time for relaxation. He quickly started doing laps in the pool, relishing the stretch and burn of his muscles as he plowed through the water, the rhythmic splash of his arms and legs helping him keep time.

He finally pulled his aching body into the built-in ledge and let himself lounge in the water a few more moments, cooling down from an intense work out. He'd forgotten how intense swimming could be when you weren't attempting to covertly feel up your boyfriend or hoping his too-big, borrowed trunks would just slip off.

He grinned at the memory of Kurt swimming with him. Sleepy, wet, adorable Kurt, lounging in the chair and covering himself in coconut-scented sun cream.

"SAM!" his mom called. "Dinner! And get your father, I think he has those earbuds in again!"

"'KAY!" he called back, levering himself from the water and wrapping the terrycloth towel around him.

He trotted over to his dad and shook his wet hair on his playfully. His father bellowed in outrage and nearly flipped the hammock over. Sure enough, he _did_ have earbuds in, since he removed them as he leveled a baleful glare on his son.

"Mom says dinner is ready," he explained.

Robert nodded and followed his son inside, climbing the steps and taking a seat at the table on the balcony. Patricia brought out the salad to complete their meal (pork chops and mashed potatoes) and the little family dug in.

Once dinner was over Sam helped his mother clean up and made a plate for his friend, sticking it in the over and covering it in foil. He ran upstairs and changed into his pajamas before setting up shop at his desk, settling down to get a head start on his homework.

He had just finished reading through the chapter on clothing items in his French textbook when his phone rang. From the ringtone he could tell it was Kurt so he pushed back from his desk and snatched his phone up from the floor where it had fallen out of his pants.

He clicked on the message and saw that it was a video. Sam smiled brightly and threw himself onto his bed. He pressed play and waited as the buffering symbol swirled in the center of the screen.

The video finally loaded to show Kurt sitting at a keyboard, shifting restlessly. He smiled and then outright laughed when Eleanor jumped up to the keyboard and slowly walked across the keys while glaring down at them like it was their fault she was walking on them and making that cacophonous racket.

Kurt shook his head and gently scooped her up before placing her in his lap where she curled up quite contentedly. He glanced at the camera once more before talking. "When you surprised me in the choir room today I was actually staying behind to practice this. I hope you like it."

And then Kurt turned his attention to the keys in front of him and carefully picked out the notes for a song Sam hadn't heard in a while. He smiled as the fair boy sang the first words of _Kiss Me_ in his high, clear voice.

Kurt kept glancing at the camera with his wide, blue, bedroom eyes and gorgeous inky lashes and Sam insides squirmed happily.

All too soon the song came to an end and Kurt faced the camera for fully. "G'night, Samuel Jordan. See you in the morning."

He cuddled Eleanor to his chest and made her give a little wave to Sam before laughing as she wiggled away. Kurt puckered his lips and made a smacking sound as he neared the camera to turn it off and Sam almost found himself reciprocating.

 _Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_ , he thought. _I never stood a chance._

* * *

Friday came and went but this time Kurt didn't spend his evening at a football game. The second game of the season was, unfortunately, an away game. Two hours away, to be precise.

He'd offered to go but Sam had firmly squashed that idea, not liking the fact the he would be alone since Blaine had gotten food poisoning the night before when he'd eaten questionable sushi and wasn't going _anywhere_.

Kurt's father laughed himself silly over the fact that his son came home and tuned the radio to the channel that broadcast the high school games in real time so he could at least hear it.

Kurt primly turned up his nose and listened to the commentator while eating his salad with grilled chicken. Burt clapped him on the back when the final touchdown was scored by Sam himself in a whirlwind play, thus winning them the game.

He bounced in his chair excitedly and immediately sent a congratulatory text to Sam even though he knew the boy probably wouldn't be near his phone for at least another hour. He sent a text to Finn as well as an afterthought; since his brother-to-be had also played quite well if the announcer was to be believed.

He tidied up his dishes and headed downstairs, immediately curling up under his covers with his phone within easy reach while he watched _Unwrapped_ on the Food Network.

As Kurt dozed his phone went off (ringtone changed to _Such Great Heights,_ by the way) and the slight teen was started by the sound. He realized he was getting a call, not a text, and struggled to answer the phone with uncooperative fingers.

"H'lo?" he said, cursing the fact that his voice was thick with sleep.

Instantly, Sam was contrite. _"Did I wake you? I'm so sorry, sweetheart!"_

"No no," Kurt rushed to assure. "It's okay. I wanted to talk to you anyway. I wasn't really sleeping; kinda drifting in and out."

" _If you're sure…."_

"I am," he insisted. "I heard you won!"

He could hear Sam's excited flailing on the other end of the line. _"I know! It was an awesome game!_ " '

"Wish I could be there," he lamented.

Sam clicked his tongue at him. _"It was too far away and you would have been alone. Besides, this way you get to sleep so you're all rested for helping me in the garden tomorrow, town mouse."_

Kurt laughed. "Does that make you the country mouse?"

The quarterback hummed affirmatively. _"Be ready to work your tail off,"_ he warned. Then, _"Nah, I'm just kidding. I mostly just want you to keep me company."_

"Well, either way, I'm excited for tomorrow. I always thought it would be nice to have a garden but we don't really have the space for one here."

Kurt yawned audibly and Sam chuckled affectionate. _"Get some sleep, baby. I'll see you in the morning."_

"Nighty-night."

" _G'night. Sleep well."_

Kurt barely managed to end the call and plug his phone in before he was in the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

Patricia Evans was brushing butter over the biscuits she was about to put in the oven when her son ambled down the stairs, looking sleepy but content.

"Mornin', sugar," she called, smiling as he grunted in response and poured him a mug of coffee. She's made sure to put the mug he'd made with that charming boy at Color Me Mine on the table since she noticed he's been favoring it lately.

"When's Kurt supposed to get here?" she asked, poking a spatula into the home fries.

Her son blearily peered at the kitchen clock. "Twenty minutes?" There was a knock on the door. "Right now," he amended.

His mom's shoulders shook in silent laughter as she scrambled eggs for breakfast. The boys were going to be working hard and deserved a good breakfast. She glanced at the oatmeal she was making for Blaine, the poor thing, and _definitely_ didn't try to eavesdrop on her son greeting Kurt at the door.

Sam stumbled to the door, confused. He was sure he'd _just_ texted Kurt before coming downstairs. Apparently, he'd dozed off for about twenty minutes without realizing it.

He fumbled with the lock and finally managed to open the door, smiling at Kurt's appearance. He was in a threadbare _Peter Pan_ shirt, pale green and clearly a shirt from his childhood. He wore a pair of cut-off jean shorts that landed above the knee with and pair of shoes that were plainly used in the garage if the oil stains were anything to go by.

"You look adorable," he rasped, clear he'd just woken up (again).

He pulled Kurt inside and noticed he was holding a floppy straw hat in one hand. _So cute_ he thought _._ He pressed a half-awake kiss to Kurt lips and led him into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Kurt," his mother called! "Hope you're hungry."

"Good morning," he chimed. "Thank you for breakfast, ma—Patricia."

She beamed at him and placed an overflowing plate in front of him. "Eat up!" she commanded, sliding a plate in front of Sam as well.

She grabbed a tray laden with oatmeal and fruit and shuffled towards the stairs. "I'm just going to check on Blaine. Just leave your plates there when you finish and I'll clean up. You boy's have fun!"

They nodded and thanked her and ate with gusto (Kurt's gusto was a little more dainty than Sam's). After the tall teen had finished his coffee he looked to Kurt and gestured at his shirt with his fork.

"Were you in _Peter Pan_?" he asked. "Or did you just see it?"

Kurt covered his mouth with his hand as he swallowed and then smiled, abashed. "I was in it," he said, turning to display his back where the cast of characters was listed.

He searched for Kurt's name and eagerly followed to see which character he'd played. "Aww," he cooed. "You were Tinker Bell?"

The fair teen's cheeks flushed. "Uh-huh." He took a sip of coffee and smiled. "Rachel's still really sore about it."

Sam laughed, full-throated and gleeful. "I wasn't even there and I can tell you would have made a better Tink. She's so…bossy. Not coy enough."

Kurt giggled and batted his lashed at Sam playfully. "Well, thank you kindly, sir."

Sam inclined his head regally before spoiling it by winking. He pushed back from the table and patted his belly in satisfaction. "I need to sit a second before we go out there," he declared.

He sipped at the orange juice his mother had squeezed and slouched in his chair. "Have you even done gardening before?"

Kurt grimaced and shook his head. "I tried to mow the lawn once," he offered. "But it ended horribly. I broke a really expensive lawn mower."

Sam bit his lip to prevent himself form bursting into laughter. "Well," he said soothingly. "There's no technology involved so you should be fine."

Kurt chuckled at his own ineptness and stretched languidly. "Ready?"

The other boy made an affirmative sound and gestured for Kurt to follow him out onto the balcony. "We can go out the screen door; that way we don't have to walk around the entire house."

The slim teen fitted his hat on his head and marched after Sam. The blond paused and sprayed them both with bug spray, making Kurt cough and sputter.

"Sorry," Sam apologized. "But trust me, it's worth it."

They trailed down the spiral staircase and across the lawn and Kurt took in the modest but flourishing garden of fruits and vegetables. "How can I help?" he asked.

Sam gestured towards the woven baskets his mother found at a flea market, big and sturdy while remaining flexible.

"Pretty much everything is either ripe or over-ripe, so it all needs to be picked. If you want to take care of that, I'll take care of the weeding and turning the soil and whatnot."

Kurt nodded. "I think I can handle that."

The blond pointed at a large metal basin. "That's for all stuff that's too ripe. My mom wants to see if she can make her own compost." Sam rolled his eyes and expressed his thoughts on that project.

"Okay," Kurt replied, picking his way through the rows and settling the basket near some very full tomato plants.

He was immediately grateful he'd worn something he didn't mind getting dirty since the first few tomatoes he picked were definitely over-ripe and exploded all over him, making him look like he'd participated in some macabre massacre.

He heard Sam giggle from somewhere near the zucchini and had to suppress the urge to lob the squishy fruit (vegetable?) at his attractive head.

His boyfriend appeared next to him, gloved hands covered in soil. "How do you fix a broken tomato?" he asked, eyes shining with mirth.

Kurt lobbed another tomato at the compost bin and felt gratified when it went in. "How?" he asked, certain the answer was going to be _ridiculous._

He wasn't disappointed. "Tomato paste. Shall I get you some?" he asked, gesturing to the mess on Kurt's arms and clothes.

Ha ha," Kurt deadpanned. "You're so funny."

"I'm hi _lari_ ous," he replied, hands on hips.

Kurt picked off another tomato, this one perfectly ripe and sparing his arms from more sticky, itchy juice. "Mmhmm, that's you; my funny honey," he said dryly.

Sam winked and poked at him with a trowel before disappearing once more. He smiled and returned to tilling the soil near the chard, spirits soaring high after Kurt had called him "honey" even if it may have only been in jest.

His family used terms of endearment without a second thought and it had annoyed quite a few of his past significant others. So far, Kurt had not shown any hints of exasperation at his tendency to refer to him by a pet name and had responded in kind.

After a while he poked his head back through the rows and saw Kurt struggling with the basket that was laden with its shiny, red crop. "Need help?" he offered.

Kurt nodded gratefully. "I didn't think they'd be so heavy."

Sam quickly lofted the basket and carefully placed it at the edge of the garden. He knew his mother would be out in a while to collect their spoils and free up the basket space. He grabbed another basket and handed it to Kurt and watched him kneel on the ground to get at the strawberries.

He darted forward and snagged a plump one near Kurt's wrist and the slender boy smiled at him. Sam smiled and bit to the leafy top before tossing the cap over his shoulder.

"Good?" Kurt asked, brushing the dirt off one for himself. "Can you eat it without washing it off?"

"So good," Sam breathed. "My mom does the all natural thing, so you're not about to eat mutant bug chemicals or anything."

The nipped the berry experimentally before biting off the whole thing. It was more juicy than he expected and he swiftly moved his hand up to swipe the liquid off, casuing him to drop the cap he was holding by the stem.

It left a little red print that looked like a kiss and he shook his head self-depreciatingly. "At this rate, I'm going to be red forever," he mourned.

Sam bent down and licked the sugary, tangy taste of the strawberry from his lips. "Red's a good color on you."

* * *

The teens sighed and collapsed next to the baskets filled with late fruits and vegetables. It was only two o'clock but they were exhausted.

Sam was covered in soil and Kurt was stained red and green, reminding him of a Christmas tree. Sam groaned and turned towards his smaller companion and batted at his hand tiredly. "I can't decide what I want first; a nap or a shower."

"Shower," Kurt declared. "I smell like a tomato. Then nap."

The blond reluctantly levered himself off the floor and pulled Kurt up with him. "C'mon."

"Can I borrow some clothes?" he asked. "I didn't think to bring any." Which, by the way, was freakin' _foolish_ because he was going to be _outside_ in the _summer_ when it was _really freaking hot_.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, of course." He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "They probably won't fit you, but we can get yours in the wash."

Kurt grunted as Sam helped him up and he followed after the other boy, body protesting every movement. They trudged upstairs and into the blonde's room and Sam walked over to his dresser. He grabbed the smallest pair of shorts he could find and an old white undershirt and handed them to Kurt.

He grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and paused in the doorway. "You can use my shower and I'll use the hall bathroom," he offered.

Kurt stopped him as he stumbled passed, a gentle hand on his arm. "We can just… take a shower together. If you want..."

"Yeah," Sam asked, throat suddenly dry at the thought of being able to look at all that creamy skin.

"I don't mind. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm too tired to even think about fooling around right now, so no chance of awkwardness."

Sam laughed. Looking was one thing, but doing was quite another. Maybe after a nap…

He shook himself out of his thoughts and followed Kurt into the bathroom, slowly shedding his clothes and trying not to stare at the pale skin slowly being revealed to him.

He stepped around the slim teen and flipped on the shower, the water stuttering out of the showerhead before evening out. He grabbed another towel out of the closet and noticed that Kurt had already gotten in the tub and pulled the curtain partially closed to keep out the chill.

Sam stepped inside and pulled the curtain closed, the area in the shower darkening, casting a shadow in Kurt's pale form. The slim teen turned around when he heard the curtain hooks sliding across the rod and smiled, the dim lights not enough to hide his blush.

The tepid water ran down over his lean form and Sam let his eyes follow the rivulets of water cascade from his shoulder to ankle.

"Like what you see?" he asked quietly, aiming for sassy but landing somewhere near genuine, earnest curiosity.

Sam nodded dumbly. "Very much."

He slowly raised his hand and placed it on Kurt naked hip, pressing his chest to the soft skin of his back. Kurt leaned back, welcoming the embrace.

Sam pressed his lips to Kurt's shoulder, brushing them back and forth across his upper back and smiling when Kurt shivered.

He put some distance between him and the blue eyed teen and reached for his shampoo. Kurt was right, he was too tired to do anything but the sooner they finished the sooner they could nap. Once rested, perhaps they could investigate the possibility of pursuing the more carnal delights.

Kurt seemed to be on the same wavelength since he began to scrub the plant remains from his arms and legs while letting the conditioner sit in his hair.

The boys finished the rest of their shower and toweled off slowly. Kurt's muscle's screamed at him through dressing and he pulled his shirt over his head with a grimace. He shifted in the too-big clothes and firmly squashed the naughty-wriggle his stomach did over the fact he was wearing Sam's clothes without underwear.

He yawned and scrubbed at his eyes, following Sam to his bed and crawling in after him. Kurt rested his head on the broad chest and got comfortable as the blond set an alarm for 3:30. "That enough time for you? I don't want to sleep too much or I'll be awake all night."

"Me too," Kurt said around a yawn.

Sam handed his phone to Kurt to place on the bedside table. He stretched his free arm above his head and shifted comfortably. The arm around his waist squeezed once before going limp, Kurt's breathing evening out in sleep, Sam not far behind.

They were jolted from their slumber by the phone alarm going off. Kurt rolled off Sam's chest and grabbed the phone, peering at it fuzzily and fumbling to turn it off.

He nudged at Sam with this elbow. "Time to get up," he murmured.

Sam rubbed at his face with uncooperative fingers. "'Kay."

Kurt flopped onto his back and turned his head towards the sleepy boy next to him. He stretched his hand above his head and abruptly curled in on himself when Sam tickled him.

He captured his slim wrists and pulled the wriggling boy towards him, pressing his smiling lips to Kurt's. The slender boy stopped wiggling and kissed back, melting into Sam's arms.

"Sleep well, baby?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yes actually. I never take naps but now I'm wondering why."

Sam smiled and kissed down his swan-like neck. "Mmm," he replied. He gently pulled on the sleeve of the worn undershirt until the curve of one delicate shoulder was exposed.

He mouthed over the unblemished skin and hummed happily. His blunt teeth scraped over Kurt's shoulder and the thin teen mewled softly.

Kurt slid his fine-boned hand under Sam's shirt and roved over the sleep-warmed skin. "Sam," he breathed.

With one last nip to his shoulder, the blond pulled back to look into Kurt's crimson cheeks. "I really want to touch you," the blond confessed, letting his hands play over his arms and stomach.

"Well, I _really_ want you to touch me," he answered.

Sam groaned in relief and peeled off the white shirt, leaving Kurt clad only in a pair of flimsy shorts. Slender hands scrabbled at his top and the bronzed teen divested himself of the article instantly.

He pulled Kurt to him and listened to the whisper of their skin sliding together. Their tongues tangled and teeth clicked in their fervor, just this side of too much, before Sam tentatively pressed Kurt onto his back.

He kissed down his lightly toned stomach and lingered around his navel. Kurt noticed that there were tiny love bites littering his torso but couldn't find it in himself to care when Sam's mouth was doing wonderful things in their wake.

He nipped at the edge of the shorts and his hazel eyes bore into Kurt's lighter ones. He slipped the tip of one finger under the waistband and tugged questioningly.

"Yes," Kurt breathed. "Yes. But you too."

Sam nodded and shucked his own shorts before taking off Kurt's. He slid his palms up milky thighs, letting one hand rest on the juncture between his and navel while the other wrapped around Kurt's leaking erection.

The slim boy gasped and arched into the touch, Sam's calluses creating the most wonderful friction. The blond licked from the base of his cock to the tip, lapping at the head before sinking his mouth over the straining length.

Kurt made a garbled sound and flexed his hips accidentally. Sam just grunted and adjusted, taking him farther inside his mouth. The pale boy was embarrassingly close and unable to decide if he just wanted to come _right now_ or prolong it a bit.

Before he could really think about it his fingers were spearing into Sam's golden hair and pulling softly but insistently. "Wait wait," he begged.

The tall boy pulled off reluctantly and licked his way back up to Kurt's face. "What is it?" he asked, voice husky.

"Was gonna come," he panted. "Didn't want to come yet."

Sam nipped at his chin and rocked their hips together, Kurt's spit-slicked cock making the movement slippery. The continued to rut against one another, Sam bestowing biting kisses to every bit of skin he could reach.

Kurt cupped his hands around Sam's face and looked at him. "Um, is there something you want to do? Something we haven't done yet? Just, you know, not—"

"Right," he agreed. There _was_ something he wanted, but he didn't know if he wanted to ask for it since it was a far cry for sucking each other off.

He nodded slowly, avoiding Kurt's expectant face. He trailed his fingers down his side, taking care not to tickle, and stroked his cock once, twice, before dipping lower. "Can I…?" he asked, stroking lightly over his hole. "With my fingers?"

Kurt felt his heart pound sluggishly and found himself nodding without conscious thought. The truth was he wanted that as well but had been too nervous to ask for it. And, to risk sounding like a Victorian maiden, he didn't want to seem wanton.

Apparently, that was a quality that men might appreciate. Or, at least this one did.

Sam kissed his stomach, tongue plunging into his bellybutton for a white-hot minute before he sat up and leaned over Kurt to struggle with his bedside drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and shrugged bashfully when the slim teen raised an eyebrow at its half-full state.

He settled between Kurt's bent knees and stoked over the long limbs soothingly. The lithe teen let out a shuddery breath and smiled at the blond reassuringly.

Sam flicked open the cap and spread a generous amount of lube on his fingers before rubbing them together to warm the slick substance. He shuffled forwards on his knees and rubbed over Kurt's opening, letting the other boy get used to the sensation.

When he feels the muscles in Kurt's legs go lax he gently pressed the tip of one finger inside, stilling immediately and gauging the fair boy's reaction. Kurt simply gasped and his eyes jammed shut, somewhat familiar with this kind of pleasure. He didn't often indulge himself like this but he was aware of how satisfying it could be.

Sensing no discomfort, Sam pushed in to the knuckle before twisting his wrist and caressed Kurt from the inside. He inhaled deeply and curled his toes, feeling his erection twitch with excitement.

Sam worked a second finger in and the slight boy started to feel the stretch. When the blond scissored his thick fingers Kurt keened quietly, rocking back into his hand. He bit his lip and reached down to stroke his cock slowly, tossing his head back at the dual sensations.

Copying his motions, Sam reached down to encircle his own throbbing shaft and squeezed the base to stave off his orgasm for just a bit longer. Watching Kurt was the hottest things he'd ever seen and he wanted to be able to enjoy it for as long as possible.

He angled his fingers and searched for the spot he knew would make Kurt see stars. He brushed over it and the flushed boy cried out, hand letting go of his cock so both of them could clutch the blankets desperately.

"Yes!" he breathed. "There, please."

Sam rubbed against his prostate steadily for a moment before removing his fingers. Kurt whined and pried his eyes open to look down at the blond kneeling between his legs.

"One more?" Sam asked, swiping at his hole with the thick bunch of three fingers.

Kurt collapse back once more and nodded weakly, spreading knees wider. Sam dribbled more lube over his fingers and dropped the bottle onto the bed. He swirled his digits around his opening before easing them inside.

He paused halfway and rotated his wrist to loosen Kurt up even more. When he was relaxed enough he pressed his fingers all the way in, immediately seeking his pleasure center.

The brunette moaned rocked into Sam's and furiously, not wanting to touch himself or it would be over, like, _now_.

"Good?" Sam asked, taking in Kurt's expression eagerly.

"God, Sam, so good."

Regardless of whether or not Kurt touched himself he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. He felt the tell-tale pressure begin to build in his abdomen and spread into his chest and down his legs.

He arched his back, staggering on the edge before crying out and tumbling into oblivion. His limbs felt like rubber and his muscles were quivering, knees knocking together.

Above him Sam made a tortured sound and pressed ruthlessly against his prostate for one blinding second and he stroke himself frantically and reached his own peak. Kurt whimpered, the pleasure turning sharp and his lover whispered his apologies and removed his fingers.

The two panted heavily for a moment before the tanned boy forced himself out of bed to grab a washcloth. He cleaned up in the bathroom and before bringing it to Kurt and tenderly swiping at the mess on his stomach and thighs.

He tossed the cloth near the laundry bin and slid back into bed, crowding close to the wall and cuddling up behind him. Though they hadn't been loud, he was vaguely concerned about lying naked in his bed with his boyfriend while his mother and best friend were home.

For the time being, he'd enjoy the feeling of the miles and miles of skin and the tiny contented noises Kurt made as he nuzzled against him.


	24. Green

Sam and Blaine had completely abandoned their intentions to take one car to school during the week. They were constantly staying after for this thing or going to meet their significant others that it was actually causing more of an inconvenience than riding together.

Like today, Sam had football practice and Blaine was going to dinner at Puck's house afterwards, but the dark haired boy needed to go home and get ready, not to mention make the dessert he was bringing over while the blond teen had plans to meet Kurt at his house and then go to bookstore for the evening.

One car was not conducive to these plans. Kurt had been not-so-secretly-excited that he'd get to see his boyfriend in the Camaro on a more regular basis but frowned sympathetically when Sam explained the problem.

Sam ambled out of the lockers, twenty minutes after everyone else had left. He'd lingered in the locker room, talking to Artie about an AP History paper that had been assigned earlier in the week, and letting Karofsky and his cronies clear out.

Artie waved goodbye as he wheeled across campus to meet his father and Sam shouldered his bag and walked to his car. His eyes were down and he was fumbling in his bag for his keys when he felt a wave of ice crash over him.

He paused, gritting his teeth. He slowly turned and saw the quickly retreating form of David Karofsky. He huffed out a breath and turned around, making his way back to the showers.

He had been expecting something like this for a while. He'd seen the jealous stares of Karofsky, felt his eyes boring into him at every opportunity. Personally, Sam thought it was jealousy.

The other boy was clearly conflicted, unable to sort through his feelings and encountering shame when he tried. After he'd witnessed the desperate kiss his forced on Kurt he's known the boy would enact some form of retribution on him for dating the boy that probably made him question his sexuality.

He dialed Kurt's number, wanting to let the other boy know he would be a few moments late.

" _Hello?"_

"Hey, baby," he said, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice. He failed.

" _What's wrong? You sound upset…"_

Well, no avoiding it now. "I got slushied on the way to my car," he admitted.

Kurt gasped on the other side of the line. _"What?"_ he squawked. _"By who?"_

"Karofsky."

" _Why am I even surprised?"_ he growled. He sighed. _"Was it at least a flavor you like?"_

Sam laughed at Kurt's unique brand of optimism. "Yes, actually," he said, licking his lips. "It was green apple."

Kurt made a speculative noise and there was rustling over the speakers. _"Well, I'm sorry you got slushied._ "

"I'm not," Sam said. "Now I know what it feels like. If anyone slushies you again I _definitely_ know I have a reason to kick their ass. Green apple tastes great but my eyes don't appreciate it."

He pushed open the heavy doors and made his way over to his locker, glad his mom drilled the need to always have a spare set of clothes into him.

" _I hear you at your locker. I'll let you get to your shower so we can get to the bookstore."_

"Wish _you_ were here to get in the shower _with_ me."

" _I'm sure you do,"_ Kurt replied saucily.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon found Sam and Kurt sharing their usual table in biology but this time the slim boy was looking a little green around the gills.

Kurt's pallor was largely in part due to the frog draped depressingly over their table, waiting to be dissected. While the fair teen wasn't thrilled at the prospect of disemboweling in the poor creature, the smell was what was really getting to him.

On one hand he was glad the amphibian was preserved; it meant they weren't alive and they didn't need to kill the creatures themselves. On the other, the smell of formaldehyde made him want to simultaneously throw up and pass out.

Sam looked over and noticed Kurt's predicament. "Are…you okay?"

Kurt grimaced and out a hand over his nose. "I hate dissections."

Sam looked at their station and worried his lip. He slid over the worksheet that detailed what they were to do and questions they had to ask in front of the ill-looking boy. "Why don't you take care of this and I'll take care of the messy bits?"

Kurt sighed in relief. "Thanks."

Sam smiled and rubbed his leg from under the table. They were given the signal to start and Kurt puffed a breath out through his mouth. Maybe if he didn't breathe through his nose, things would be okay.

The blond sliced into the body cavity of the frog and Kurt felt himself get hot before getting the chills. _Not good_ he thought. He'd only fainted a few times ( _okay_ , every time he had to get a shot or have blood drawn), but that was generally the precursor.

He fanned himself with his hand before darting down and rustling in his bag. He pulled out a scarf and sprayed a few spritzes of Chanel onto to the soft fabric and wrapped it around his nose and mouth.

He wilted with relief, the nausea faded within seconds. Suddenly Rachel appeared in front of him, her eyes hopeful and holding out a leg warmer. He sprayed the garment and the diminutive girl gave him a grateful hug before returning to her partner, Mercedes.

He took his seat on his stool once more and heard Sam giggle. He looked at the boy and saw him biting his lip as he did _something_ to the frog on the dissection tray.

"Do you have something to share, Samuel?" he asked, tone light and voice slightly muffled.

Sam nodded. "You look like an outlaw," he said. "Like an adorable Jesse James or Billy the Kid or something."

Kurt merely shook his head and began labeling the anatomy of the _Rana catesbeiana_ , the American bullfrog. The dissection went off without a hitch and they were one of the first groups to be done.

Sam raised his hand so their work could be inspected and then they could clean up. Kurt made it through the dissection without fainting or getting sick, but he didn't want to press his luck.

They got the all clear and Sam disposed of their frog hastily. Kurt was already wiping down their table with Lysol and color was beginning to return to his face. "Better?" he asked.

Kurt pulled the scarf away from his mouth and smiled. "Much. It still smells in here, but I think I'm getting used to it. Or getting high, either way."

Sam smirked and leaned against the table. "Can that happen?"

"I have no idea," Kurt admitted. "But it certainly made me feel lightheaded."

"Poor thing," he cooed. "Well, I don't think we're supposed to have another dissection for a while."

The shorter teen perched on his chair and pulled his scarf back up over his nose. More students were finishing and it just so happened they were near the trash can and one of the sinks, the smell of formaldehyde intensifying.

Having finished their lab they sat at their table, chatting about their plans for the night. Sam leveled Kurt with a steely glare and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you stayed up until four," he said.

"I didn't realize it!" Kurt defended. "It was a good book!"

Last night, once the duo had finally managed to get to the book store, Kurt had bought a book on Marie Antoinette's fashion and that of her court. Personally, Sam thought it was a little dry for him and had to listen to Kurt gush over things like damask and petticoats but he'd let Sam look at the comic books and hadn't complained once.

Hey, he even pretended to be interested when Sam totally fanboyed over the new edition of _Hellboy_ and nearly knocked down an entire row of comics in his haste to grab it. He'd just chuckled and straightened the stacks before leading him over to a squishy love seat.

They were the last ones out that night, filing out with the employees. If Sam had known that Kurt was going to stay up all night he would have confiscated the book until the weekend when he could stay up all night without fear of falling asleep in English class.

The bell rang and everyone hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, knowing they would only be asked to help dispose of dissection kits and frog bits if they lingered.

Kurt followed Sam towards his locker, letting the blond boy guide him as he rummaged around in his bag, looking for sheet music.

"That duet competition is today, right?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. Blaine and I know it backwards and forwards but I just need to give the music to Brad."

"Brad?" he asked. McKinley was small, really small, and he couldn't think of any kind named Brad.

The delicate boy made an affirmative sound. "Yeah, he's our piano player. For glee, I mean."

"Nervous?" he asked, shuffling the books around in his locker.

Kurt sighed and collapsed against the lockers, music clutched in his hands. "Yes," he admitted. "I mean, I know Blaine and I are going to do fine, it's everyone else I'm worried about. Things like this always turn into some crazy fight and Rachel, as much as I love her, flips _out_ when it looks like someone else is going be in the spotlight and then everyone breaks off into little groups and Mr. Schue usually ends up giving the solo to her anyway, because we all live in fear of her diva fits."

"Wow," Sam said, manfully holding back his laughter. "I'd ask to watch, but I think it would just make the Rachel situation worse."

Kurt nodded and started walking to the choir room. "She can be great, really, she's just so ambitious. She wants everything so much and every tryout is like a life or death situation."

"You're going to do amazing," Sam said confidently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Call me when you win."

* * *

Kurt sat back and watched the drama unfold. Rachel had been standing in the middle of the room, screaming at Mr. Schuester for the better part of an hour, claiming that he was unfairly judging her and her partner, Tina.

Well, Tina was technically her partner, but only in name. The pint-sized performer's voice overpowered Tina's softer tone and Rachel _literally_ danced circles around her. While their voices blended wonderfully, Rachel's style was more showy and the two didn't bled together at all.

Kurt, however, was basking in his victory. Well, almost a victory. He and Blaine had tied for first with Mercedes and Puck's _Paradise by the Dashboard Light_. The four of them were sitting in the corner, giggling over Rachel's breakdown.

" _Enough!_ "

Mr. Schue pointed to a chair and glared until the brunette stomped over to it and threw herself into the plastic seat.

"No more fighting," he declared. "This wasn't just my call. You all voted, Ms. Pillsbury voted and that's _that_. Now, there is still the chance to audition for a solo in the group number," and there he paused to look at Rachel pointedly

"But this is settled. Now, the two groups that tied," he said, gesturing to the four sitting clumped together. "You guys are going to do one final number. A brand new number, ready by Thursday, for a final showdown! Now, whichever group wins, we'll be performing the number you did today, but I want to see how you do under pressure."

He clapped his hands together and surveyed the group. "Okay!" he said. "Get outta here! And, yes, Rachel, you can have the room to practice."

Sensing another breakdown, New Directions fled the choir room. He and Blaine immediately began debating what number they should do on Thursday. He shot a playful glare and Mercedes and hustled Blaine out of hearing range.

They laughed and the duo made plans to go their respective homes and scour their music library and Skype about the possibilities.

He loved Mercedes, but he was going to crush her.

Wednesday was as expected. New Directions was in upheaval and Rachel was refusing to speak to anyone, especially Tina, claiming it was her fault they lost.

Last night he and Blaine had decided to go the complete opposite direction of their first number. After much debate (and a coin toss) they had chosen _Under Pressure_ by David Bowie and Freddie Mercury, since it gave them an opportunity to showcase the more upbeat side of things and was a clever play on Mr. Schue's words.

They'd stayed after school and practiced in the auditorium until they'd been shooed out for Jazz Band to practice their Fall Ensemble. After they'd been evicted they'd wandered over to the field, watching as the football team ran their last plays.

The replacement kicker got up to attempt a field goal and Kurt reflexively ran his fingers over the faded bruises on his face. They were nearly gone but the memory remained. From the glare Sam shot over at Edison, the memory would remain for him as well.

After practice ended with the sound of Coach Beiste's whistle, Sam trotted over, Puck on his heels. "Hey, babe," he panted. "All done rehearsing?"

Kurt nodded. "We've got this in the bag," he said, gesturing at Blaine.

"Psh," Puck replied. "Aretha and I are gonna take you down."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You talk a good game, Puckerman, but we know Kurt and I are going to wipe the floor with you."

Noah gave Blaine an affectionate slap on the behind and backed away from the fence. "We'll see about that. Imma hit the showers; see you in a few."

Sam pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's lips. "Me too. Meet you back here?"

Kurt nodded and followed Blaine to sit in the shade while they waited. Puck appeared first and dragged Blaine off, the shorter teen laughing all the while. The slim teen dug into his pocket before applying a thin layer of chapstick, smacking his lips together.

He jumped when Sam plopped down behind him. "Sheesh, you scared me!" he admonished.

"Sorry," Sam said, looking contrite. "I didn't mean to."

Kurt rested his head on the blonde's shoulder. "That's okay. I'm just nervous around the football field; too many bad memories."

Sam's mouth set into a grim line and he nodded in understanding. He leaned forward to kiss the skittish boy in comfort, licking at the seam of his lips.

He pulled back suddenly, licking his lips and looking at Kurt curiously. "Are you wearing green apple chapstick?"

He flushed. "Yeah," he admitted.

"You are so cute," Sam cooed, rubbing his nose against Kurt's. He pulled back and helped Kurt from the bench. "Do you need to be home right away or do you have time to get a cup of coffee?"

Kurt grabbed his phone and tapped out a quick text. "I have time."

"Great. Where to?"

Kurt took a deep breath as he contemplated their choices. "The Daily Grind; we haven't been there in a while."

The flaxen haired teen nodded and the two walked to their cars, parked next to one another as usual. Kurt frowned as he neared his car and noticed something on his windshield. He tilted his head inquisitively and quickened his last few steps. He bit his lip in an effort to contain his laughter when he realized what it was.

Panties. Lacy, skimpy, women's panties. They were pink and cheery cherries danced across the slip of fabric.

Sam's reaction was quite different. He was furious. Sure, as far as teasing and pranks go, this was pretty tame, but it was clearly meant to humiliate the slim boy.

Behind him he heard very familiar laughter. David Karofsky sauntered over with a malicious smirk on his face. "Found those for you, Hummel. If you're gonna act like a girl, why not dress the part?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes and untangled them from his windshield wipers, content ignore him. Sam wasn't. He closed the scant distance between them and glared at the other boy.

"Look, Karofsky, I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish by terrorizing my boyfriend, but it stops now."

Karofsky just made a dismissive sound and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What are you gonna do about it?"

Sam's hand darted forward and grabbed a handful of the other teen's shirt. "I'd love nothing more than to kick your ass, but that's not going to solve anything."

He abruptly released his handful and Karofsky stumbled. He kept his voice low, glaring at Karofsky all the while and ignoring Kurt's frantic movements behind him. "Normally I'd feel bad for someone like you. I've been there; scared and confused and mad at the world, worried that I'd lose everything. But for you I've made an exception. I stopped feeling sorry for you the moment you assaulted my boyfriend."

"That what he told you? It's probably just one of his sick fantasies," David hissed.

Sam growled and stepped closer to the other boy. "No, he didn't tell me. He didn't need to; I was there the day you _forced yourself_ on him in the locker rooms. I forgot my keys and came back to see you threatening him and kissing him before storming out."

The color drained from Karofsky's face ad he retreated a step. "Now, I don't know if you're jealous that Kurt's taken or mad at him because he made you feel things you didn't want to feel, but I'm only going to say this once; _leave him alone,"_ he spat. "No more slushies, no more underwear on his car, no more pushing in the hallway. Does it make you feel better, knowing that you can knock around someone one-third your size? Does it somehow make you not gay?"

Karofsky, predictably, had a visceral reaction to the word "gay", pushing into Sam's space and turning a ruddy red. "Dude, shut the fuck up, I'm not queer!"

"I don't care what you are," Sam snarled back. "So long as you leave Kurt alone."

David looked faintly green and retreated once more. "Or what? Or you tell everyone?"

"No," Sam replied softly. "As much as you piss me off, that's not my place." Behind him, he felt Kurt relax, his small hands curling around his bicep. "But I won't need to. You don't pick one someone as much as you pick on Kurt without some kind of motive. And it's not because you hate gays; anyone can see that it's much more personal. So, do yourself a favor, and leave Kurt alone, or I _will_ kick your ass."

Karofsky swallowed thickly and shook his head, backing up slowly. "Whatever. I'm outta here, fags," he said shakily. The hulking boy turned around and sped towards his car.

Sam took a fortifying breath and turned around slowly. Kurt had an unidentifiable look in his eyes and he was still clutching at his arm. "Sorry," he whispered. "I may have gotten carried away."

Kurt shook his head, looking teary-eyed. "No," he said vehemently, pulling Sam into a fierce hug. "Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to the blonde's tanned throat and pulled back to look in his eyes. "Thank you. That's the first time someone's really stood up for me."

"Really?" Sam asked in disbelief.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. What are my friends going to do against someone like David Karofsky? Tina tried once, and he kinda pushed her."

"God, that guy really pisses me off," he hissed. He looked down at Kurt with a rueful grimace on his face. "Sorry. I hate that I'm getting so bent outta shape about this. Guys like him really get into my head and make me want to just hit things. Preferably him. It's one of my least attractive qualities."

The fair boy laughed and leaned into Sam. "I dunno. S'kinda hot," he said coyly.

"Really?" Sam asked, arching a brow rakishly.

Kurt pecked the other boy on the lips and sauntered to his car. "Meet you at The Grind?"

* * *

Kurt sat next to Sam on his chair, the two crowded close together. They sipped their drinks and chatted about nothing until the blond received a text from his mother.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, unwrapping his arm from Kurt's shoulders and texting back furiously.

Kurt placed his coffee in the table and looked at Sam in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I totally forgot about my dad's charity thing this weekend. It's like a dance and dinner thing, _crap_."

Kurt placed his hand on Sam's knee and rubbed lightly. "What kind of charity event is it?"

"Um, it's with a bunch of my dad's business associates. All the money raised goes to a few different charities. I know one is for orphanages, another is underprivileged families, anything you can think of. It's in Cleveland."

Sam got another text message and he responded immediately. He turned to Kurt with a wide smile. "Do you want to come?" he asked. "We're going to leave Friday after school—thank god there's no game—and we're going to come back Sunday afternoon."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Of course I'd like to go," he said. "I just need to talk to my dad. I'll ask him tonight, when we finish here."

"Great," Sam gushed. "I hope you can come."

Kurt cuddled back into Sam's side. "Me too. What will I need to bring? Like, clothes wise."

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment for responding. "Well, the charity thing is kind of an all day event. The fundraising doesn't start 'til dinner but there's this fancy brunch thing beforehand. Um, I usually wear a suit for the dinner and just something nice for the brunch."

"My dad's probably going to want to know about the sleeping situation," he admitted. Frankly, so did Kurt. If they were going to be sharing a room/bed, he'd make sure to bring cute pajamas.

Sam nodded. "Right. Um, my parents usually get two rooms; one for them and one for me. My mom actually texted me saying that if you were able to come they'd get a room with two beds, but we'd still be in the same room."

"I think that'll be sufficient for my dad," he said. He _hoped_ it would be enough for his dad. "Is Blaine going?"

The tanned boy frowned and shook his head. "No," he began. "He usually went with his family. Since their gone and this would be the first time he'd ever gone without them, he's kinda depressed about it and asked to stay home."

Kurt clucked sympathetically. "That has to be hard."

"Mmm," Sam replied, tipping his cup back to get at the last few drips of latte. Kurt followed and looked at his boyfriend regretfully.

"I should get going, especially if I'm going to ask my dad's permission to spend the weekend away."

Sam sighed dramatically. "Alright. If you must."

"I must."

They stood and tossed their cups as they walked to their cars. After a quick kiss, Kurt was buckled into his Navigator and on the way home, mentally preparing arguments to convince his father to let him go with Sam this weekend.

It was probably going to take a phone call to Sam's parents, and wouldn't that be fun? He pulled into his driveway and grabbed his satchel before heading inside.

His father had been doing well enough to spend the day on his own so long as he carried his cell phone with him constantly. Kurt texted him at least twice an hour, making sure his father was alright.

He tossed his keys in the bowl near the door and wandered into the kitchen. Burt was standing at the stove, poking at an egg white omelet. He knew his father was tired of soup so he'd gone to the store and picked up the fixings for healthy omelets and other breakfast stuff.

Lately, the Hummel's had been a breakfast for dinner family and Kurt was okay with that. His waistline wouldn't suffer thanks to his iron fist in the kitchen, whereas before it was a constant battle with his father's love for fatty (delicious) foods.

He hung his bag on the corner of the chair and sat at the table. "Hey, Dad."

Burt turned and looked at his son with a lazy smile. "Hey, Kurt. How was your, ah, competition?"

"Great!" he beamed. "We tied for first, so there's one more audition."

Mr. Hummel smiled and ruffled his son's hair as he made his way to the table. He paused and gestured to the living room. "Am I going to get a lecture if I eat in there? _Deadliest Catch_ is on."

Kurt rolled his eyes and shooed his father into the living room. He quickly made himself an omelet (spinach and mushrooms) and followed his dad into the living room.

Burt was sitting with the fork paused halfway to his mouth, watching the crew of the _Time Bandit_ bring in some crabs. He chuckled and nudges his father. "Eat," he implored. "It's probably already cold."

His father grinned sheepishly and downed the rest of his omelet in the next commercial break. Kurt shook his head in amusement and ate his food at a more sedate pace, looking for the opportunity to bring up this weekend.

When the show ended, his father flopped back against the couch and stretched contentedly. "Where are Carole and Finn?" he asked.

"Carole wanted to take Finn out; it's been a while since they've had some together." Burt wrapped his arm Kurt's shoulders and pressed a reverent kiss to the side of his son's head.

There was a heavy silence and Kurt could feel his father smile against his temple. "You got something you need to say, Bambi?"

The delicate boy sighed in annoyance. "How do you _do_ that?" he questioned archly.

"I'm your dad," Burt responded simply. "It's my job."

Kurt pulled back and looked at his dad. "Sam and his family invited me to Cleveland for the weekend. His father has some charity even that they go to every year. They're going to leave Friday after school and be home sometime on Sunday."

"Mmhm," his dad said. "And what kind of charity thing is this?"

Kurt cleared his throat and brushed his bangs back from his face. "It's like a gala; a dinner and then dancing."

Burt nodded thoughtfully. "And where, exactly, would you be sleeping?"

"Um," Kurt said, feeling his heart rate escalate. "Sam's parent's always get him his own room, like, with an adjoining door to theirs. If I can go, they'll get a room with two beds."

Burt nodded again. "And you're _sure_ the rooms are connected?"

"Um, pretty sure."

Mr. Hummel sighed and ran his hands over his buzzed head. "I'm going to want to speak to one of his parents."

Kurt nodded and went to retrieve his phone from his satchel pocket. He sent a message to Sam before returning to the living room.

_My dad wants to talk to one of your parents about this weekend. Is now a good time to call?_

Instead of replying, Sam called. He answered and took his seat next to his father once more. "Hey, Sam."

" _Hi, sweetheart. I have my mom right here, is your dad ready to talk?"_

He replied affirmatively and handed his father the phone, stifling his whine of protest when his father rose to speak with Mrs. Evans privately.

Kurt contemplated tip-toeing to the kitchen and hiding out behind the wall but thought better. His father knew all his tricks nowadays.

A few moments later his father came back into the living room, phone off. He stood in front of Kurt with his hands on his hips. The slim boy bit his lip anxiously and his father's face softened.

"Okay," he began. "I'm going to say yes."

He put up a restraining hand when Kurt squealed in delight, bouncing on the couch excitedly. The boy quieted and let his father continue.

"Like I said, I'm going to say yes as long as you promise to _call me_ ," he stressed. "I mean it. When you get there, when you wake up, when you leave to go anywhere, when you get back to the room for the night. I'll even settle for a text at the end of the night, but keep me in the loop."

"I promise," he declared, childishly crossing his heart.

His dad suddenly looked uncomfortable. "And remember, you know, what we talked about. That…you matter, Kurt."

Oh god, the sex conversation that had traumatized him and sent Carole into fits of inappropriate giggles. "You matter" and haunted his _dreams,_ literally _._

He had been having a _wonderful_ dream about him and Sam fooling around when suddenly his father burst into the room yelling "You matter!" and spoiling _everything_.

"I'll remember," he said softly, hoping his father wouldn't press the issue or quiz him on exactly what he was promising.

Burt sighed and looked heavenward. "Then yes, you may go."

Kurt squeaked happily and jumped up to hug his father, being mindful of his tender chest. "Thank you, Daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Don't make me regret it."

He pulled back and gestured towards Kurt's room. "Go ahead, plan outfits. I can tell you're dying to."

The pale boy beamed at his father and kissed his on the cheek before flitting downstairs. He dialed Sam as he hustled down the steps, calling to confirm the good news and ask what he was wearing.

Kurt smiled wickedly as hr thought of Sam in a suit, suppressing a naughty wriggle. It wasn't really his fault; every boy's crazy about a sharp dressed man.

* * *

He really was doing his best not to gloat, really. Kurt knew that bragging wasn't attractive but _they freakin' won!_ He and Blaine had actually won the duet competition.

Kurt had been worried when Mercedes and Puck had gone; they'd chosen to reinterpret Michael Bublé's version of _Fever._ It was sexy and unexpected and really had Kurt shaking in his Doc Martens.

The he and Blaine gotten up to perform their duet and even _Rachel_ had broken her vow of silence to compliment them. After the votes were in and the result announced, his dark haired partner jumped onto his chair a la Tom Cruise on Oprah's couch in victory.

Kurt had laughed so hard he fell off his chair and into Brittany's lap, causing Santana to glare at him. He suppressed his knowing smirk and straightened out, hugging Mercedes and slapping at Puck's shoulder.

"You were amazing," he whispered to her. "Seriously, I was scared."

Mercedes pulled back and raised manicured eyebrow at him sassily. "You better be scared, white boy, because I'm comin' for you when we do Regional auditions."

Kurt dramatically put a hand to his chest in fear before laughing and pulling her in for another hug. The dark girl walked away and Rachel too her place. He braced himself for a scathing critique but then her face softened, giving him a rueful smile.

"You were really great," she said slowly. "Sorry I was so bent out of shape this week. You deserved to win; I just get really…ugh. I just want it so much—and I forget that other people want it just as bad as I do."

The delicate boy smiled and held his arms out for a hug. The contrite girl smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You're going to be amazing," she whispered.

"Thanks, Rach."

They separated and Kurt was pulled into an exuberant victory hug from Blaine, bringing them both crashing to the ground in a giggling, wiggling heap.

Mr. Schue clapped to get their attention and everyone took their seat, settling down and looking at them expectantly.

"Blaine, Kurt, congratulations! We're all really excited for you guys to perform our opening number at Sectionals."

Everyone clapped and he raised his hand, signaling them to stop. "Now we have to decide who's singing what for the group numbers. On Tuesday I wanna hear what you got. Anyone that wants to audition for a featured spot in the group number should prepare a solo. Keep in mind the songs we chose; I wanna feel the emotion."

New Directions nodded as one and Kurt could practically feel the emotions already swelling up inside Rachel.

 _Gaga help us if she doesn't land a spot_ he thought anxiously.

Mr. Schue nodded decisively and dismissed them. There was a flurry of action as everyone grabbed their things and tried to talk over one another about the upcoming weekend.

Mercedes approached him, tugging on the straps of her backpack. "I miss you! I feel like we haven't had the chance to hang out in forever."

"I know!" Kurt said, frowning sadly. "We need to get together, and soon. Next weekend?"

She nodded happily and linked arms with him as they walked to their cars. "You got plans this weekend, sweetness?"

Kurt smiled shyly and nodded.

"Dish!" Mercedes commanded, shaking him lightly.

He smiled and bent his head towards hers conspiratorially. "Sam's dad goes to this charity event in Cleveland every year; dinner and dancing and all that jazz. I was invited to spend the weekend with them."

"Really?" she asked slyly.

Kurt scoffed and stopped near the door of her car, hands on his hips. "You can get your mind out of the gutter right now," he ordered. "His parents are going to have an adjoining room."

The curvy girl held up her hands in surrender. "Alright," she said. "I believe you. Kinda hard to get it on when there's only a wall between you and his parents."

"Oh my _god_ , Mercedes!"

She just laughed and slipped into her car, waving at him happily. He waved back, perhaps a little aggressively. He made his way to his own car (panty free!) and made his way to the shop.

His father had convinced them to let him go to the shop for the day after swearing her wouldn't lift anything heavier than a stapler.

He pulled into the garage and was pleased to see his father sitting in the office, eating a sandwich Kurt had made him for lunch this morning. He knocked on the open door and tossed his bag on the couch.

"Hey, kid," his dad called, pushing the paper he was working on away. "How was your day?"

He beamed at his dad, bouncing in place. "Great!" he exclaimed. "We got the duet!"

"I knew you would," his dad said proudly, standing up to pull him into a strong hug. He pulled back and tapped his son on the shoulder meaningfully. "You get me tickets to that thing."

Kurt nodded enthusiastically and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his father's desk. "Are you almost ready to go home?" he asked.

Carole had brought him over this morning as she left for work. While they were willing to let him catch up on paperwork and be out solitary confinement, they didn't trust him with a car. Burt Hummel was as stubborn as a mule and would most definitely attempt to do too much.

"I'm ready," he said, sighing deeply.

Kurt frowned in sympathy. "How bad is the paperwork?"

"Not that bad," Burt replied, sounding optimistic. "I've just been away too long; hard to get back in the swing of things."

They two clambered into the SUV and made their way home, Burt listening as Kurt regaled him with today's audition.

Before they climbed out, his father placed a hand over Kurt's. "I'm proud of you, Bambi."

"Thanks, Daddy," he replied softly.

Burt nodded and got out, gingerly making his way inside. Kurt knew that he was immediatly going to head to the couch and remain there until it was time for bed later this evening, the day having taken a lot out of him.

Kurt went inside and was assaulted by the smell of chicken roasting. He found Carole in the kitchen making a salad, a pot of veggies bubbling away at her elbow.

"Hey, honey," she said, tasting the salad.

He pressed a kiss to her cheeks and peered into the pot. He hummed in anticipation when he saw that it was asparagus and offered to help finish dinner.

"I got it, Kurt. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes."

He nodded and headed downstairs to change into something more comfortable and call Sam. He slid into a pair of shorts and his stolen shirt before collapsing in a hanging chair. He crossed his legs and texted his blond boyfriend.

_We got it!_

He spun in his chair and smiled happily. He was ecstatic for this chance to perform and was glad Blaine was his partner, grateful for the opportunity to get closer to the dark haired boy. His phone beeped with a response.

_Congrats! I'm so excited!_

Kurt replied with a smiley face and wiggled his feet. He called for Eleanor and she slinked off the bed and made her way over to him sedately. His phone chirped just as he got her settled in his lap.

_Is sectionals open to the public? I want to come see you!_

Before he could respond, Carole rapped on his door. "Dinner's ready!"

He leaned forward and smiled at her warmly. "Be right up!" he called.

_I'd love for you to come! But seriously, if Rachel doesn't get a solo no one is going to sectionals because she's going to kill us all_

Kurt put his phone on silent and climbed the steps, mouth watering at the smell of dinner. He phone buzzed and Kurt checked once more before sitting down to eat.

_Ha ha, I get that impression from her._

Kurt remembered what happened to Sunshine Corazon. He chuckled ruefully. Sam had no idea.

* * *

Friday came around and Kurt was driving to the Evan's before he knew it, hand shaky with nervous excitement. He'd gone home to say goodbye to his family and grab his suitcase before meeting Sam and his parents at their house.

He _knew_ that Sam hadn't finished packing yet. When Kurt asked him after school ended the blond grimaced and looked at the floor sheepishly. Kurt had looked at him sharply before laughing and promising to help when he came over.

He came to a stop behind Sam's Camaro and waved to Mr. Evans as he was packing what was clearly his wife's luggage into the trunk of his car. He looked bedraggled and harassed and annoyed but determined to fit the staggering amount of luggage in the trunk.

"Hi, Mr. Evans," he said as he walked by.

He smiled and paused in his work. "Robert, please." He patted Kurt on the shoulder and gestured to the house. "Head on up; Sam's having a crisis in his room and pretty much everything he owns is on the floor."

He nodded and hustled up the stairs. The front door was open and Patricia was frantically vacuuming the entryway. "Ummm," he said, pausing in the threshold.

"Sorry!" she shouted, fumbling for the off button. She sighed and smiled brightly. "Nothing's worse than coming home to a dirty house."

Patricia hopped over the cord and hugged him briskly. "Sam's in his room," she said. "I would _really_ appreciate it if you gave him a hand packing otherwise I am going to have to strangle him."

Kurt laughed and nodded. "No problem."

He climbed the steps and made his way to Sam's room. He heard muffled cursing and peeked into the room stealthily.

The closet light was on and clothing sailed out at a rapid rate. He giggled uncontrollably and the parade of clothes stopped. Sam's blond head poked out, hair rumpled.

"Need help?" he asked.

Sam nodded energetically. "Please. I have no idea what to bring or what to wear."

"This actually works out," he said, navigating his way to the tall boy's closet. At Sam's questioning look, he continued. "Now we can match. Well, not necessarily match, but definitely not clash."

Sam smiled. "Awesome."

"Why don't you tidy up the mess in your room?" he suggested. "From the way she's vacuuming, I think that your mom will have a heart attack if she sees that."

The blond looked alarmed, proving Kurt's assumption to be true. The brunette giggled and browsed through Sam's clothes, pulling things he thought the other boy might like.

Clothes draped over his arm, Kurt moved into the room. The flaxen haired boy had cleared off his desk chair and Kurt draped his selections over the back.

He turned and helped the other boy fold and hang his clothes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why did you wait until the last minute?" he asked.

"I'm the worst procrastinator," he admitted. "I just think 'later' and play another round of video games, and then later never comes."

Kurt shook his head in amusement and hung up the last shirt. "Wanna look at what I picked?"

"I trust you, but yeah."

"Suitcase?" he asked, removing the hangers.

Kurt heard another muffled curse before the tanned boy disappeared sunk to his knees and wiggled under the bed. The suitcase emerged in increments, being pushed from under the bed.

Kurt hefted the thing onto Sam's bed and zipped it open. "Shoes first," he declared as Sam reemerged from under the bed.

He waved two pairs of shoes in the air and the other boy nodded in approval. Within thirty minutes, Sam was packed and his room was cleaner than when Kurt got there.

"Was that so difficult?" he asked teasingly.

Sam made a tsking sound and flopped into his desk chair. "If you hadn't helped me it probably would have taken over an hour and then my mom would have come up, undone everything, and repacked me in ten minutes."

Kurt laughed and hopped onto Sam's bed, sitting cross-legged. "Oh!" Sam exclaimed. "I forgot. My mom packed too much; as usual."

He and Kurt shared a look of understanding. Despite what you may believe, Kurt was an amazingly efficient packer. Thanks to Oprah's travel episode and a mild case of neurosis he could fit enough clothes and toiletries for ten days in a medium suitcase and a carryon with room to spare.

Sam slapped his hands against his thighs and rubbed briskly. "So, we can either squeeze in with them, or follow them up. I vote for going ourselves, but my mom wanted me to let you know she's willing to downsize if your dad isn't okay with us driving there ourselves. It _is,_ like, three hours away."

"Let me call my dad," Kurt replied. "I'd love to not have to squeeze; I can get a little motion sick if I feel claustrophobic."

Sam nodded and grabbed his suitcase to bring it downstairs in order to give Kurt a little privacy. He left it in the entry way and lingered, not wanting to interrupt Kurt speaking with his father.

He slowly climbed the stairs and made his way back to his room. He ran into Kurt in the doorway, catching the slim boy before he fell. He set the boy on his feet and brushed a wayward strand of hair back from his forehead.

"What's the verdict?" he asked.

Kurt beamed. "My dad said he doesn't mind if we go alone. I never thought I'd be grateful I get car sick in crowded spaces."

"Great!" Sam enthused.

R2-D2 trotted by, pawing at Kurt's ankles until he was picked up. "What's the deal with this little guy?"

Sam scratched behind his ears and cooed at him. "He's gonna stay home with Blaine. He's never been on a trip and this probably isn't the best vacation for his maiden voyage."

Kurt nodded in understanding and pressed a kiss to his tiny head before setting him on his feet. "So, your car or mine?"

Sam grabbed Kurt's hand and led him down the stairs. "I don't mind either, but if being crowded makes you feel motion sick then we should probably take yours."

"Alright," he agreed. "But you're driving. I've never made the trip to Cleveland on my own, so I'm not comfortable driving that far. Well, that and I don't have any idea where we're going."

Sam nodded. "The Ritz-Carlton," he provided, releasing his hand and grabbing luggage.

"Wow," Kurt said, floored. "I'm impressed. And glad I decided being overdressed is better than underdressed."

The blond just pecked him on the cheek and made his way to the Navigator. His parents were outside, bickering over whether or not they should out luggage in the backseat to make more room in the trunk.

The stopped when they realized Sam and Kurt were in hearing range and smiled tightly. "So, what's the story?" Patricia asked.

"My dad is fine with us following you guys," Kurt answered. "I get car sick sometimes," he admitted ruefully.

Mrs. Evan's clucked soothingly and brushed her fingers through the fringe falling over his forehead. Kurt flushed and shrugged.

Robert motioned towards Kurt's car with an air of certainty (Sam _was_ putting his suitcase in the trunk). "Taking the Lincoln, boys?"

Kurt nodded. "Sam's driving, though."

The blond came back to stand next to Kurt and loped an arm around his slim shoulders. Patricia took stock of the luggage situation and whirled towards the house, muttering about _just one more dress_.

Robert sighed and sat on the open trunk with a resigned look on his face. "As soon as you boys are ready, you can go on ahead. I have a feeling your mother is going to be a while."

Sam nodded. He'd been down this road before. His mom had yet to insist they bring everything back upstairs because she can't remember if she packed something and she can't find it anywhere, then a meltdown about leaving the dog and Blaine, and then making everyone do _one more round_ in their rooms to make sure they remembered everything when _she_ was the one that always forgets.

Yeah, he was so outta here.

They said their goodbyes and the two teens made their way to Kurt's car. Sam climbed into the driver's seat and the slim boy fiddled with the radio. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"Where's Blaine?" he asked.

Sam grinned as they backed out of the drive. "He's at Puck's; time to meet the family, Part II."

"I have to admit, I'm really surprised."

Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye. "How so?"

"This devotion is kind new for Puck. Not that I doubt it," he rushed to clarify. "It's…nice."

The tanned boy nodded in agreement. He smiled in awe when he heard his own voice coming from the speakers. "You put my song on your iPod?"

Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair. He covered his face with his hands and peeked through his fingers. "Yeah."

Sam smiled and reached over to take one of his hands. "I'm so crazy about you."

"So I am," he said, gesturing to the radio.

The two sat quietly as the tanned boy navigated through town and towards the highway. "Do you want to stop and get coffee before be leave town?" Sam asked.

At Kurt's reproachful look, he laughed. "Right, dumb question."

Moments later he pulled into The Lima Bean's parking lot. They filed into the shop and stood in line, chatting about the weekend ahead of them.

The two boys grabbed their coffees from the barista and headed back to the car. The sun was beginning to set and it cast an orange glow over everything it touched. "Hope you brought sunglasses," Sam said. "We're driving right into that."

Kurt daintily placed his oversized Gucci glassed on his upturned nose with an air of contempt. He laughed, spoiling the effect.

Sam placed his own Aviators on his face and concentrated on merging onto the highway. Once they were well on their way, Kurt took off his sunglasses and toed off his shoes. He crossed his legs on the seat and looked over at the blond.

"So, is there anything I should know about this weekend? Any worries?"

Sam took a deep breath and bit his lip. "That depends."

"Depends on what?" Kurt asked curiously.

"On if Gordon comes with his parents."

Oh. _Oh._ Sam's ex. "Would that… be a problem?"

Sam started about three sentences before finally managing to pick one. "He can be…"

"Difficult?" Kurt guessed.

"An asshole," he deadpanned. "He feels like he's the best I'm ever going to get and likes to remind me."

The fair boy nodded. "Ouch."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Blaine and I happened to run into him once and it was so awkward. He kept making weird innuendos and touching me and looking at me suggestively while completely ignoring Blaine once he realized that my best friend wasn't going to abandon me in the mall for a quick grope in the restroom."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow."

Sam nodded. "His parents usually went to this. He's supposed to be in college but I don't know if would have come home for the weekend. As you might have guessed, we're not exactly on friendly terms."

Sam jumped as he received a text message. He glanced at the screen and handed it to Kurt. "It's just my dad. Will you open it and tell me what it says?"

Kurt nodded and clicked on the message. "It's the check-in information. I guess that he's expecting that they're going to be _really_ late."

Sam laughed and nodded. "I don't doubt it. My mom is crazy when it comes to packing, especially when it's for an event like this."

The fair teen just smiled and reclined his seat, resting his socked feet on the dashboard. "Are we there yet?" he whined.

The taller boy scoffed and pushed Kurt's knee, making his feet fall to the floor. "Not even close."

Kurt groaned. He hated long car rides. At least he'd have something nice to look at on this trip.

Hours later and countless pits stop, the teens pulled into the Ritz-Carlton. They groaned as they pried their stiff bodies out of the Navigator. A valet took their keys and handed them a ticket which Sam pocketed.

A bellboy grabbed their luggage and followed them to the reception. Sam approached the desk and drew a credit card form his wallet. "Checking in for Evans," he said politely.

The sweet-looking Asian receptionist, Amy, smiled and tapped away on her computer. "Your first name?" she inquired.

"Sam."

The receptionist clicked and clacked before handing over two keys and wishing them a nice stay. They followed the bellboy to the elevator. He led them to their room and dropped their luggage off inside.

Sam shook his hand covertly slipped a tip inside. Kurt yawned and stretched, eyeing the beds longingly.

"Ready for bed?" Sam asked.

"Oh, my god, yes."

The teens rummaged around in their suitcases. Kurt took a moment to hang up their formal attire in the closet to prevent wrinkling before shedding his clothes and pulling on his pajamas and brushing his teeth.

He collapsed onto the bed farthest from the door and stretched out as hard as he could, listening to the sounds of Sam in the shower.

He raised his legs and pointed his toes at the ceiling, relishing the stretch in his hamstrings. He vaguely heard the shower cut off, accompanied by some rustling. He door clicked open and Kurt could feel the steam from the shower flow into the room.

"I was wondering where that shirt went."

Kurt jumped and looked down. _Shit_. He totally brought the shirt he'd stolen from the blond boy the night he'd stayed over.

"Whoops?" he said sheepishly, blushing.

Sam laughed and crawled into bed next to him. "I like it. This okay?" he asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Mmhm," he replied. "But what about your parents?"

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and displayed a text from his dad.

_You know how your mother feelsabout driving at night. Going to leav first thing in the morning._

"Well, then never mind," Kurt retorted.

Sam hopped out of bed and locked the door. The brunette waited until he'd slipped under the covers to turn off the light. They curled together, Kurt's chest to Sam's back.

Spooned together, their breathing evened out. The blond pulled the teen close, nuzzling his nose into the space behind Kurt's ear. "Kurt?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Mmm," the slim boy replied. "Yeah."

There was a pause before Sam finally responded. "I love you."

The blonde's heart pounded as he waited for a response. Kurt turned around and desperately sought Sam's lips. As they kissed the tanned teen could feel wetness on Kurt's cheeks.

He pulled back and let himself be drawn to Sam's chest. They lay in the silence, Kurt clutching at the muscular boy's shirt and feeling the racing heat thump underneath his cheek. He slowly looked upward, gazing at him from beneath inky lashes.

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!
> 
> I hope that the ending was reward enough for me ending the chapter a little early. I wanted the whole charity even to be one chapter since there are lots of things that I plan on including.
> 
> Strangely, the "I love you's" were not something I had originally intended to put in this chapter, it just felt like the right time ^_^
> 
> xoxo


	25. Skurt Chaser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been moving the story along lately but this chapter is going to be slowing down. I wanted to devote this chapter to their charity weekend and some real relationship development as well as Kurt growing closer to Sam's family.
> 
> You know, for future purposes…
> 
> Anyway, I actually tried to do research on the Cleveland area and the area surrounding the hotel since I've never been there, so if anything is grossly inaccurate, I apologize. And I also apologize for taking so long to update. Not only was this my first week of classes, I also moved across town. It was soul-crushing.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing is mine and everything hurts.
> 
> WARNINGS: Le sigh.
> 
> * * *

Sunshine poured through the open curtain, making Kurt regret his choice of the bed farthest from the door since it out him so close to the laser beam of light currently trying to burn his closed eyelids off.

He made a disgruntled noise and shifted defiantly. He wouldn't get up. _He wouldn't_. He chanced cracking one eye open to peer at the clock on the nightstand separating the two beds and groaned.

7:32.

Opening his eye proved to be a fatal mistake because now he was wide awake and suppressing the urge to wiggle restlessly. Sam's arm was around his waist and his nose was buried in the nape of his neck, breath tickling him mercilessly.

He shifted slightly and the blond snuffled sleepily, pulling him closer. Kurt smiled and allowed himself to be drawn further into Sam's chest. He closed his eyes and thought back to last night.

 _I love you_.

They'd have this room to themselves for the entire weekend. Aside from showing up to the event and behaving, Sam's parents had given them no rules, and they had free run of the place.

 _I love you_.

Now that he was awake and not suffering from I've-been-cooped-up-in-the-car-for-over-three-hours syndrome, he was able to appreciate the room. This _was_ the Ritz-Carlton, after all. Kurt felt like he was on a mini-vacation.

A mini-vacation with the guy he was in love with; a guy that loved him back.

Shortly after their mutual confession, the teens had fallen asleep. Their sleepy declarations paved the way for an amazing night of rest of what was sure to be an amazing weekend.

He brought Sam's lax arm to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the sleep-warmed skin. He smiled happily and kept his face buried in the tanned flesh.

"What are you smiling about this early in the morning?" Sam rasped, startling Kurt. "Sorry," he apologized, a returning smile in his voice.

Kurt shook his head, nose bumping against Sam's forearm. "Nothing," he replied. "I'm just happy." He turned onto his back and stretched, sighing contentedly.

He looked over at his blond bedmate, smile still firmly in place. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Nah," Sam said, drawing sleepy circles on Kurt's shoulder. "We forgot to close the curtains last night, so the sun woke me up. Kinda glad we didn't sleep in though."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Why is that?"

"Because then I get to take you to the market before brunch starts," he explained.

"Market?"

Sam nodded. "There's this market, really close by. It's like a mini Pike's Place. I figured we could wander around and grab a bite to eat from one of the vendors. Work up an appetite for brunch."

"Sounds promising," Kurt enthused. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower?"

He shook his head and sat up, scooting of the bed and grabbing his phone. "I'm just going to check in with my dad while you do that."

Kurt nodded, glad he remembered to text his father from the lobby. He shuffled through is suitcase with uncooperative fingers and grabbed a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a slate shirt with an artistic skull design as well as his bag of toiletries.

He trusted the Ritz-Carlton to provide them with adequate shower care; he just didn't trust his hair to anyone but himself and Bernice at Hairloom Salon.

Not wanting to waste any valuable market time by dillydallying in the shower, he breezed through his routine. He toweled off and dressed quickly, using his hand to wipe away the condensation on the mirror.

The bruising on his face was almost completely gone and only a faint shadow remained, leaving a slight yellowing to his skin that could easily be masked by a little concealer. If he were home, he wouldn't bother, but he wanted to look his best this weekend since it wasn't just himself he was representing.

He opened the door and shivered when the cooler air of the room hit him. Sam was already dressed and focused on The Weather Channel. "It's gonna be really nice out today. No rain."

"Great," he said. "Then I won't have to take another shower before brunch."

He quickly dabbed some concealer over his face in the full length mirror and styled his hair. He called his dad as he put on his shoes and did one last check in the mirror.

Unable to help it, Kurt added a plain white scarf to his outfit, a delicate pattern imprinted in the fabric. "Ready," he declared, putting on a light, military inspired jacket in grey.

Sam followed his out the door and locked it behind them. "My parents left about thirty minutes ago. Knowing how they dive, they'll get here around noon."

Kurt chuckled. "You know, with your family's car, I kind of assumed he'd be something of a speed demon."

"Oh, he is," the blond clarified. "It's my mom. She's freaks if you do anything over sixty."

They shared a laugh and waited for the elevator to reach their floor. Its arrival was signaled by a ding just as a door opened down the hall.

Kurt walked inside and pressed the button for the lobby, looking up at Sam. His face had gone tense and he stared at the floor as he hustled inside. He quickly jammed the "door close" button and sighed when the elevator began to move downwards.

"Sam?" he asked cautiously. "Is everything alright?"

The blond shook his head and laughed self-depreciatingly. "Gordon's here."

* * *

Despite the news, Sam brightened as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. He'd led Kurt through the streets and before long they were navigating through the numerous vendors and throngs of early-morning shoppers.

Kurt was drawn to a bake stand that was presided over by a quirky looking gal in her late twenties, complete with sleeves of tattoos and messy hair á la Maggie Gyllenhaal in _Stranger than Fiction_.

After he very clearly drooled over the pastries (figuratively, mind you), Sam asked him if he wanted to share something, knowing he'd never agree to eat something so calorie laden on his own.

The slender boy nodded shyly and agonized over his decision before asking for a sticky bun. Sam nodded and they waited in line. Once they got to the counter the taller boy ordered two cups of coffee, a sticky bun, and a bear claw.

At Kurt's indignant face he just winked and handed the outraged teen the oversized confection. "I don't actually like sticky buns."

"You did this so I'd feel obligated to eat the whole thing, didn't you?"

Sam laughed. "Caught me."

In lieu of responding the fair teen bit into sticky treat vengefully; it tasted like trickery and deliciousness. Sam leaned over and pressed a sugary kiss to his lips. Kurt's ire melted away and he hid his smile behind his coffee cup.

They wandered through the aisles and Kurt lamented the fact that they didn't have anything like this in their Podunk little town otherwise he'd be there all the time.

Seeing that lady that owned the bakery they had visited made the pale teen mentally catalogue every bakery in town. Perhaps he could get a part-time job and hone his baking skills before he started looking for culinary schools.

By the time they finished their morning snack Kurt was glad that he'd thought ahead and brought hand sanitizer. He dug it out of his pocket and the two teen rubbed away the stickiness from their fingers.

Although the market was filled with tasty looking gems, the boys refrained from indulging, saving their appetite for the brunch that was quickly approaching.

Not wanting to sully the mood, but needing to know, Kurt hesitantly brought up Gordon. "I know that you probably _really_ don't want to talk about it, but is there anything I need to know about Gordon?"

Sam sighed and led him to a small table in one of the designated seating areas. "He's just... a terrible person," he said around a laugh. "I _really_ don't understand him. He left me, which, in hindsight, thank _god_ , but he gets so jealous."

Kurt nodded, disliking this person more and more by the minute.

"He'll probably just make a bunch of inappropriate comments and try to make you feel like an intruder by bringing up, like 'shared memories' and things about our family. Then he'll probably hit on you and try to subtly pick you up, make me look like some inept, fumbling idiot."

Kurt reached forward and patted Sam's hand. "Has that ever actually worked for him?"

"Unfortunately," the blond drawled. "I've actually lost two dates to him."

Kurt was floored. Who the hell would abandon _Sam_ for some jackass? "Well," Kurt said decisively. "I'm in love with _you_ , so I don't think there's anything for you to worry about."

Sam beamed at him. "Yeah," he said softly, eyes soft and expressive. "You are."

The blond winked and mouthed "Love you" before taking his hand and pulling him from the table. "We should get back. My parents will be here soon and I know you want the time to gussy up before we go down for brunch."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Like you're not going to spend just as much time in the mirror. You're going to go upstairs, get dressed up, and remind that Gordon kid just what he let go."

"I am?" he asked uncertainly, looking insecure.

"Yes, you are. You're a prize; he's an idiot."

* * *

Sam unlocked the door to their suite and the boys filed inside. Kurt handed the blond his outfit for the brunch while he fussed with his own.

He draped it over the unused bed and started to shed his clothing. He kicked his shoes towards the closet and tossed the scarf at his luggage. Before he could pull his shirt off Sam had snatched him around the waist and tugged him forward, into his arms.

The tanned teen stroked his hands down Kurt's arched back and kissed him soundly, tongue dipping between his parted lips and getting heated in a hurry.

The teens gasped when they heard a knock on the door adjoining their room to Sam's parents. The broke apart and Kurt shot a quick look to the bed they had shared last night.

Thankfully, the cleaning service had been by since they'd been gone and all evidence of them occupying the same bed was gone. Another, louder, knock came on the door.

"Sam?" called Patricia. "Kurt? Boys, are you there?"

The blond untangled himself as they heard his father call "Just _text_ them, Pat! They're probably out!"

Sam chuckled and swung open the door, making his mother jump. She made a frustrated sound and swiped at him with a clutch.

She peeked in the room and smiled when she noticed their brunch clothes laid out over the bed. "Good, you're getting ready."

She pointed her finger at Sam sternly for a moment before pulling him into a hug. She surprised Kurt by hugging his as well, pulling back to pat his cheek.

"I hope you don't mind, but I scheduled us a spa morning on Sunday, before we're set to leave. I know that Sam and his father want to go visit the Armory. Normally I'd be dragged with them, but since you're here I figure we could do something we like and no one will feel left out."

Kurt was speechless for a moment before his manners took over. "Thank you," he gushed. "I'd love to."

Patricia gave him another squeeze and breezed back into her room, shutting the door behind her. Sam pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chair.

"She likes you," he said.

Kurt exhaled in relief. "Yeah?" he asked nervously.

Sam nodded firmly. "Definitely. She's never invited anyone I've dated to do anything like that."

He paused and considered. "Never anyone she knew I dated," he amended. "She didn't invite the ones she didn't know about either, but you get the point."

The fair boy chuckled. "I do. And I'm flattered." He wrapped his arms around Sam's waist, preventing him from buttoning his shirt. "Thank you for taking me this weekend."

The blond smiled sweetly and kissed his forehead. "I'm so glad you could come."

They drew apart and finished dressing. As per Sam's instructions, he pulled on a pair of light wash jeans. On top he paired them with a soft yellow button down with a delicate floral pattern. He pulled on a white vest and completed the look with a quirky bowtie made of amber colored gems.

He turned and saw Sam adjusting his sweater. He and Kurt had settled on a pair of black jeans with a pale blue button down tucked into his pants. Over that he wore a grey v-neck sweater with pale blue and yellow argyle.

His well defined arms and rippling pectorals looks amazing and Kurt felt his face flush in arousal. Well, Gordon would certain see what he had let go and Kurt hoped that it chafed him something awful.

The fiddled with their appearances until Robert knocked on the door, the entrance this time, and beckoned them forward. "Time to go, boys," he said unenthusiastically. "Let's go mingle."

The Evans' and Kurt rode the elevator to the lobby and trailed onto the balcony overlooking the water fountain. "My dad loves doing charity events," Sam said quietly. "He just hates the politics involved."

Kurt nodded in understanding and stuck to Sam's side. His parents waved them off, telling them to enjoy themselves and Patricia grabbed a mimosa as they were paraded by. She teasingly gestured _I'm watching you_ with her fingers before smirking at sipping her champagne cocktail.

The blond shook his head at his mother's antics and lead Kurt over to a secluded corner, grabbing them both a Shirley Temple. Laugh at the name, but they were _awesome_.

The leaned against the marble railing and looked out over the water, watching the birds swim across the lake and the water crash from the fountain.

They chatted idly, enjoying the hors devours as they came around, whether it was because they were delicious or simply unrecognizable in their opulence.

Kurt rested his forearms against the railing, Sam wrapping an arm around his back. The fair boy leaned into the embrace. "I love you," he whispered.

The taller teen squeezed him tighter. "I love you, too." He shook his empty cup. "Want another drink?"

Kurt nodded and followed Sam, not feeling comfortable enough on his own. There was a small line at the bar and the boys stood next to one another in comfortable silence. They both leisurely looked over the crowd, the blond boy pointing out interesting people as he went.

He reached down and took Kurt's handing, squeezing nervously. "That's Gordon," he whispered, gesturing with a jerk of his head. "The one in the white."

Kurt's first thought was _That's cream,_ but he immediately dismissed it as irrelevant. The person in question was wearing a gaudy linen suit with a salmon colored shirt underneath. The fashionista scoffed inwardly.

 _What is this, Miami Vice?_ he thought archly. He checked his shoes and rolled his eyes. _Yup, no socks._

Gordon had hair the color of ink that fell in loose waves around his ears. His eyes were equally dark and framed with the longest lashes Kurt had ever seen that weren't attached to a cow. His lips weren't full but the top had a defined double-curve, forming a perfect cupid's bow.

His skin was a deep bronze, making the boy appear more Mediterranean than he had any right to look. According to Sam, Gordon's family were proud Brits, as far back as the Crusades. He has a narrow waist and broad shoulders and Kurt could see the subtle play of defined muscles underneath his clothes. He had to give it to him; the man was gorgeous.

Vapid, contemptible, and assuming, yes, but gorgeous.

Kurt found it intriguing that he and Gordon shared no common characteristics. _Though perhaps I shouldn't be,_ he thought. _Maybe after dating this_ prize, _Sam subconscious repelled people that resembled him_. The two of them retrieved their drinks and swiftly retreated to their corner which remained blissfully empty.

Though not for long.

Moments later, a familiar figure made its way towards the pair, a plastic, rakish grin on his face. He bristled inwardly as Gordon blatantly looked Sam up and down before his eyes made their way over to him.

His eyebrow flicked upward minutely and the dark skinned boy looked him over covetously. Kurt resisted rolling his eyes and glaring at him in disgust, but only barely.

 _Thou shalt not covet thy ex's lover,_ he thought inanely. Gordon surely wasn't going to get the opportunity to cover _this_ lover.

The two that had gone off with him before were clearly mentally deficient in some way. Who would choose someone so disingenuous and insipid over _Sam_?

He paused a respectable distance from them and grinned widely. Sam's wide hand came to rest on the small of his back, partly for comfort and partly to show Gordon the nature of their relationship.

"Samuel," Gordon greeted in his rich baritone. "Lovely to see you. It's been too long."

Sam mustered up a smile. "Gordon. Glad to see you're well." He turned to the smaller boy, giving him a real smile. "Allow me to introduce my boyfriend. Kurt, this is Gordon Hughes. Gordon, this is Kurt Hummel."

Kurt extended his hand for a shake but was caught off guard when the dark haired man captured it and pressed a bold kiss to the back of his hand.

 _Are you serious?_ he thought in disbelief. _Who_ does _that?_

"You're taste has certainly improved," Gordon drawled to Sam, his greedy eyes never leaving Kurt's form.

 _Yours hasn't,_ Kurt parried mentally, thinking of his terrible suit. His inner diatribe would make his Aunt Maggie proud.

"It certainly has," Sam deadpanned, looking down his nose at his ex.

For a moment Gordon's façade slipped, giving Kurt a flash of ugly, petty person his could be. He'd understood that Sam's comment had been a jab at him and didn't take to kindly to being made to look the fool.

And then his veneer was firmly back in place, chuckling good-naturedly. His laugh was warm but his eyes were cold and his mouth was set unpleasantly. "You were always funny, even if other things were lacking."

Kurt remembered Sam telling him that Gordon dumped him shortly after they'd had sex for the first time; his first time with a guy. His blood boiled at the low-blow but he forced himself not to respond.

The dark haired man looked to him. "Have _you_ noticed that? Or was it just me?"

The pale boy looked up into Sam's face and smiled, really smiled, before looking back to Gordon. He left a bit of the cattiness he was feeling show in his face as he responded. "Can't say that I have. Maybe it was you?" he offered innocently.

Gordon's demeanor changed and he pursed his lips, sneering down at them. He completely ignored Kurt in favor of smile, smiling cruelly. "You suit each other. How quaint. See you at dinner."

He whirled around and stalked off, disappearing inside the lobby. They stared after him before glancing at one another. They uselessly tried to hold in their laughter but broke into fits of giggles, breaking off only when Kurt got the hiccups.

Patricia and Robert appeared in front of them, Sam's mother swaying minutely as she sipped from a never ending supply of mimosas. "Did I just see Gordon Hughes over here?" she asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"I never liked that boy," Robert muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wife's back.

The blond nodded, clearly broadcasting _I don't know what I was thinking_. Patricia scoffed distastefully.

"That boy is such an ass."

"Mother!"

* * *

The small group headed back to their rooms for some rest before the actual event started. Mrs. Evans was almost asleep on her feet, leaning heavily against her husband.

Robert waved to them with an amused look and shuffled inside to take a nap with his wife. Sam chuckled and opened the room, sighing when the cool air hit them. The balcony had started to heat up towards the end of the brunch, making the air conditioned unit feel like heaven.

"This happens at every event," Sam explained lightly. "My mom can't hold her champagne. It goes straight to her head and then she passes out, like clockwork."

Kurt giggled. "She's a lightweight?"

"No, actually," the blond said. "She can hold her whiskey like nobody's business. She says it's the bubbles that get to her."

Sam collapsed into the wingback chair and glanced at the clock. It was just three and dinner didn't start until seven. "So, what do you want to do until dinner starts?" he asked.

Kurt perched on the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. "I'm definitely going to need a shower before dinner," he said. "But other than that…" he trailed off, shrugging.

"Wanna just relax up here? We have like, ten thousand channels, and I don't know about you, but I could use the rest."

The fair teen nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

He toed off his shoes and rearranged them inside his luggage. He sat down near his suitcase and grabbed his pajamas from the night before. "Do you want the bathroom first?" he asked. "I'm thinking about taking a quick bath."

"Quick bath?" Sam asked. "Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

Kurt nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, but I can't sit in the warm water for too long or I'll fall asleep. And cold baths are against nature," he finished, shivering.

The muscular teen laughed and slumped in his seat. His gaze grew heated and mischievous. "Mind if I join you?"

Kurt glanced at the door connecting their room to Sam's parents. It had appeared that Robert and Patricia were going to nap to make up for the sleep they had missed by rising early to make it here. That, and sleep off Mrs. Evans' mimosa buzz.

He shrugged and grinned. "Why not?"

Sam smiled and leered exaggeratedly before losing his composure and laughing all over himself. He stood and flicked the lock on the door to his parents' room before pulling off his sweater. He raised his eyebrow and worried his lip around a grin, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked towards Kurt.

The fair teen shook his head and climbed to his feet. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the taps, running his fingers under the water to gauge the temperature. Once he was satisfied he pulled the plug and grabbed the bubble bath that the hotel had provided for them.

"Lavender or Sandalwood?" he asked.

Sam shrugged but realized Kurt couldn't see him from his perch on the tub. "Doesn't matter to me so pick whatever you like."

The slender boy uncapped them and smelled each before shrugging and adding a bit of both. He sloshed his hand in the water to encourage the bubbles to form before standing and drying his hand on a towel.

He glanced at the blond running his fingers over his face in front of the mirror. Did Kurt mention he was shirtless? "Did you miss when you were shaving?"

He nodded. "Found a spot, now I'm just checking. I hate doing that."

"I don't need to shave," Kurt said, shrugging. "But I imagine that's annoying."

Sam laughed. "Consider yourself lucky."

As the taller teen took care of his face Kurt unbuttoned his vest and walked back to his suitcase. He grabbed his dirty clothes bag and divested himself of clothing until all that remained were his boxer-briefs.

Trying not to feel self-conscious, the fair boy padded back into the bathroom and found Sam in a similar sate of undress. He shook his head fondly when he saw the pile of formal clothes discarded on the tiled floor.

Sam grinned unapologetically as he washed the shaving cream from his face. Kurt walked over to the tub and turned off the taps, a thick layer of fragrant suds floating on the surface of the warm water. Before shucking his underpants he checked their towel situation.

Two; perfect. He took a silent breath and slipped off his underwear and into the water. He sighed and sat cross-legged in the tub, sitting sideways to allow Sam to slip in the front and lay his back against the sloping edges.

The tub was a big, spa affair, deep and complete with jets that he hadn't quite figured out how to operate. He shifted happily in the water and splashed some of the warm liquid on his face before squeezing some facial cleanser in his hand and scrubbing off the makeup he'd worn earlier today.

He jumped as the jets suddenly stuttered to life, one pounding into the middle of his back. He made a noise, possibly a squeak, and lifted his head to glare at the blond that was wearing a Cheshire grin. "Whoops," he said unabashedly.

Kurt sniffed at him disdainfully and desperately tried not to stare as Sam pulled down his boxers and revealed all the golden skin to him. He down further, giving the other boy's legs some room. Some room they apparently don't need, since the moment the blind got settled he pulled Kurt against his chest.

The slim boy laid his cheek on Sam's firm chest, shifting so that he was resting on his side. He brought his arms around the other teen's back and held him loosely.

He felt Sam press a kiss to his hair and brush it back with a damp hand. He sighed deeply and relaxed into the circle of Sam's arms, hip coming into contact with something that was most certainly not resting.

"We're supposed to be relaxing," he chided lightly, a laugh in his voice.

Sam flushed and shrugged. "I blame you."

Kurt giggled and rubbed his nose against the taller boy's clavicle. "I can accept that," he said magnanimously. "But save it for later."

"Later?" Sam asked, intrigued.

The smaller boy looked up and locked eyes with his boyfriends, letting the heat and arousal he felt shine through. "Later," he promised. His eyes grew amused again. "I refuse to fool around when your parents are just 'napping'. Sleeping, however, especially after a night of dinner and dancing…" he trailed off suggestively.

"That's not going to help me calm down," Sam complained good-naturedly.

Kurt arched a manicured brow flirtatiously and slightly slid away from the blonde's embrace. He reached for the detachable showerhead and cold tap. "Maybe I should help you cool off?" he suggested slyly.

Sam grabbed him and snatched his hand away from the tap and showerhead. "Don't you dare," he cautioned with a laugh.

* * *

After their bath the boys took turns towel each other off, familiarizing themselves with the other's body. They dressed in their pajamas and crawled into bed together.

They propped up the pillows from both beds onto the bed they had shared the night before and Sam leaned back against the fluffy mountain. Kurt curled up against his side, head pillowed on a tanned shoulder.

The blond flicked on the TV and saw _The Producers_ on the Ovation channel. "This okay?" he asked.

"If I didn't love you before, I definitely would now. This is so okay," he enthused.

Sam laughed and started the movie over, settling in to watch two unlikely partners produce a musical about Nazis.

Time drifted slowly, the teens enjoying one another's company. Their hands slowly roamed over each other's bodies, seeking to soothe and comfort instead of arouse.

Towards the end of the movie, Kurt began to doze and slide down Sam's chest. The muscular boy smiled and glanced at the clock, noticing it wasn't even six yet. "Kurt," he whispered.

"Mmm," he replied blearily.

Sam smiled and let himself run his fingers through Kurt's hair. "Do you want to take a nap? It's barely 5:30."

There was a pause before Kurt finally answered. "Forty-five minutes," he slurred. "That's all."

The bronzed teen laughed and agreed, setting his phone alarm and pushing away the mound of pillows until only two remained. The boys wriggled to get comfortable, Kurt grumbling about Sam's shifting all the while until they eventually ended up in the position they were in the night before; Sam spooned against the delicate boy's back.

Forty-three minutes later, the alarm went off and Sam groaned as Kurt accidentally elbowed him in the stomach. "Sorry, sweetheart," the fair boy rasped.

The blond rubbed the offending elbow and pressed a sleepy kiss to his head. "S'okay. But it's time to get up. We gotta get dressed for dinner, though."

Kurt nodded and pulled away from Sam's warm grip and stood on unsteady legs. The other boy chuckled. "You're so cute when you first get up."

"I'm cute all the time," he responded sleepily.

Sam nodded. "I stand corrected."

He rose from bed was well, unlocking the adjoining door as he walked passed. The boys shared the sink as they brushed their teeth and Kurt fussed with both their hair. He patted Sam on the cheek, signaling he was finished and the other boy could get dressed.

He could hear his parents moving about in their room, getting ready for the event. Knowing his parents, his father had forgotten to set an alarm and his mother had started awake, having had a nightmare that they were late.

The blond tossed his sleep clothes behind his luggage and grabbed his hanging outfit from the closet. He ran his fingers over the fine fabric. Kurt had chosen a black on black ensemble for him and Sam was glad for it.

He'd blend into the crowd, which was something the blond strove to do at events like this. People that worked with his mother and father were rarely as kind, scenting fear and insecurity like sharks before attacking, trying to make him give away a business secret or investment information.

He was glad to have Kurt with him. Politics aside, he was just happy to be with Kurt away from the drama of McKinley. No, now all they had to worry about was Gordon.

But after this afternoon on the balcony, Sam was significantly less worried. It was clear Kurt could hold his own and was _not_ interested in sneaking off for a quick grope in some darkened corner. But, if Gordon was anything, it was persistent.

He shrugged off those negative thoughts and pulled on his fitted black trousers. He had opted out of wearing an undershirt and left a few buttons open at the collar. Kurt said it gave him a devil-may-care look, and the gleam in his eyes said he liked it very much.

The fair boy had encouraged him to wear a pair of suspenders that Blaine had given him as a gift. He'd smiled his thanks and promptly shoved them in his sock drawer since he had _no_ idea how he was supposed to rock a pair of black and gray paisley suspenders.

He fiddled with the contraptions and huffed in annoyance.

"Need help?" a voice asked from behind him.

Sam sighed. "Yes." He handed the contraptions over with an exasperated sigh.

Kurt took the suspenders and draped them over Sam's broad shoulders, getting closer than strictly necessary to fasten them to his trousers. He ran a finger underneath to straighten them out and snapped them teasingly.

"All done."

The taller boy smiled in thanks as Kurt turned to dress himself. The slim boy pulled on a pair of dark grey trousers, fitted with a faint sheen to them. He buttoned his pale pink shirt and tucked it into his pants.

He smiled as he fingered the silky fabric of his jacket. His father had bought it for him a few months before when Kurt had to send away his laptop for maintenance and he was browsing Marc Jacobs' site on the family computer.

His dad said he deserved a reward for filing the backlog of paperwork the shop has accrued during a weeklong storm that had flooded the roads of Lima and brought in more cars in one week than they usually saw in a month.

It was fitted and made of a dark grey fabric, hitting him at his hips. The stitching was intricate and sinuous, done in black silk. There was delicate lacing near the cuffs and lapel, done in black and giving the look a faintly Victorian look.

He pulled on the jacket and secured a lace tie around his neck to complete the look, buttoning his jacket as he turned to face Sam. He was fiddling with the collar of his shirt and jacket restlessly, having forgone a tie.

Kurt let his gaze linger on his perfect form before putting on his shoes and checking his appearance in the mirror. Sam came over to stand next to him, looking at their images in the reflective glass. "We make a good looking couple," the blond whispered confidently.

The slender boy laughed and nodded smugly. "Are you all set?" he asked, glancing at the clock.

The blond nodded and strolled over to the door connecting their room to his parents and knocked. A few moments later his father opened the door, looking harried and wearing an exasperated smile. "We'll be ready in a few minutes, son. You're mother is having a little difficulty."

In the background they could hear a frantic clatter and panicked grumbling followed by a hairdryer. Robert shook his head and leaned into the room as he knotted his tie. "If you boys want to head down, go on ahead. The reservation is under my name and they'll seat you without us."

He glanced back towards the bathroom where his wife breezed out wearing a silk bathrobe, tossing various dresses onto the bed before snatching them up at random and holding them up to her form in the mirror. He sighed.

"I think we're going to be here for a while. Thank goodness that dinner always starts late."

Sam shared a look with his father and nodded. "We'll head down then. See you in a bit."

Mr. Evans patted Sam on the shoulder and shut the door with a soft click. "Ready to go down?" the blond asked, grabbing the keycard off the table along with his wallet and phone.

Kurt nodded. "Let's go."

They rode the elevator down in silence in deference to the family they were sharing the tiny space with. Kurt smiled at the little girl standing in the corner, twirling to make her dress pouf outward. Her mom ran her fingers through her curly, black hair to still her, a baby on her hip.

The elevator dinged and the tiny family poured out, the little girl skipping alongside her parents and babbling to her baby brother.

"So cute," Kurt cooed.

Sam nodded. "I always wondered what it would be like if I had a sibling," he admitted.

Kurt made an affirmative sound. He'd never really given that much thought to it; he'd been more concerned to know what it would be like to have a mother. Not wanting to sour the mood, he kept that bit of information to himself.

The approached the podium where a gaggle of well-dressed men and women loitered, ready to escort the guests to their tables. Sam gave the reservation name and a petite blonde girl led them to their table.

The Evans' were placed in a private corner at a table for four. As soon as they sat down their water glasses were filled and the waiter scurried away before Kurt could even get a look at him.

Their backs were to the wall and no one was behind them, making Sam comfortable enough to place his hand on Kurt's leg under the table and squeeze lightly.

The fair boy smiled and covered Sam's hand with his own. "You look handsome," he said earnestly.

The blond smiled bashfully. "Thanks."

Kurt blushed and looked around. "So, what usually happens at these things?"

Sam sighed. "There's a lot of business talk and showing off and bragging. Most people don't come to the event because it's the right thing to do, they come to talk big and intimidate each other. Not all of them," he clarified. "But most. Despite appearances, Blaine's family really did want to give back."

He took a sip of water and licked his lips. "The food is amazing, and this time, the company's even better. Almost everyone will ignore us in favor of my parents. All we have to worry about is Gordon."

"Do you really think he's going to do something?" Kurt asked.

Sam made a thoughtful face and shifted in his seat, fingers tightening on Kurt's leg. "I think he'll definitely come over to say something. He doesn't like to let someone else have the last word and you most certainly did when he stalked off on the balcony. But do something?" The blond boy shrugged. "I don't really know what he'd do."

"Well, we'll find out," Kurt replied.

From across the room the aforementioned young man entered the room with his family and took a seat near the middle of the dining area. His observation was interrupted by the arrival of Sam's parents.

Though just a while earlier Patricia had been locked in a frenzied struggle against time and formal preparations she looked the very picture of calm. She wore a long, flowing purple gown while her husband wore a classic black suit, impeccably cut.

They sat across from them and smiled. "Don't you two look so handsome!" she gushed.

They chatted idly while they waited for dinner to start. Sam and his father discussed the architecture of the room and hotel while Patricia and Kurt commented (read: criticized) on the fashions of the people attending the event.

In the corner of the room a string quartet played quietly, the gentle atmospheric music swelling abruptly to get the patrons attention. Some important bigwig stood on a raised dais with a microphone and thanked everyone for their attendance before signaling for dinner to begin.

A battalion of servers descended upon the moneyed masses and the group found themselves presented with a menu.

Kurt waged a (mostly) internal battle, wavering back and forth on multiple options for each course. Sam chuckled from his place nest to him, noticing his struggle.

"I have the same problem," he confided. "My parents hated taking me out to dinner when I was little because I could never decide what I wanted and would get cranky when they made me decide or decided for me."

"That's adorable, actually," the fair boy said. "Wanna share?"

Sam nodded and the teens conferred over the menu, managing to decide just as the waiter returned to their table with the Evans' drinks.

They placed their orders and looked around the room. A startlingly short amount of time later the first course was delivered.

Kurt picked at his crab cake slowly, savoring the taste. Sam nudged the smaller boy with his elbow. "Eat up," he encouraged with a sly look. "You're going to the need the energy."

"Mhmm," the delicate teen said speculatively, looking at Sam in amusement. "Will I?"

Sam winked. "For dancing, of course."

* * *

Kurt pushed his dessert dish away from him, licking the last bit of trifle from the spoon regretfully. If dinner had been a masterpiece than dessert was its crowning glory. He looked over at Sam and smiled contentedly.

The blond returned the grin and slipped a hand onto his lower back, rubbing lightly. Sam's father and mother had opted out of dessert to go to the bar and talk with one of the families they were close with and hadn't seen for quite some time, leaving the boys to themselves.

Sam took a sip of water to clear out the sticky-sweet after taste of the napoleon he'd ordered. "The dancing should start soon," he told Kurt. "After all the dishes are cleared away we'll be herded into the ballroom."

The fair boy nodded and drained his water before excusing himself to the restroom. Sam looked around the room while Kurt was gone and grimaced. He knew one day it would be his duty to come to these things on his own, not just as Robert and Patricia's son.

While he still had a few years before that was expected of him, Sam still dreaded the inevitability. Though, it would be more bearable if he had someone like Kurt with him. Or, you know, Kurt _still_ with him.

But that was putting the cart before the horse, and perhaps even forgetting the horse altogether.

His gaze lingered on Gordon. Ugh, Gordon. What the hell had he been thinking? Nothing, clearly, or he would have seen past that fake smile and gorgeous face. Well, everyone was allowed their mistakes; he just wished his didn't haunt him and try to take his boyfriend's.

The dark haired figure was brooding quietly, making Sam uneasy. As he'd said to Kurt earlier, he didn't think that Gordon _could_ do anything, but that didn't mean he wouldn't _try_.

Sam was actually surprised he didn't have a date with him. He shrugged all thoughts of the aggravating teen out of his head as Kurt returned to the table.

In his thoughts, the blond hadn't noticed that the waiters had come by to clear the tables and the room had started to empty.

He smiled at Kurt and stood from their table, offering his arm to the smaller boy. Kurt blushed and accepted, slipping his hand into the crook of his elbow and allowing himself to be led to the ballroom.

They waved to Sam's parents as they walked in promptly found a secluded corner to sit. There was a harp gliss and then a lively tune wafting through the air.

Couples immediately paired off and began gliding across the floor. Kurt had to hand it to them; they knew how to dance.

Sam wrapped his arm around his slim waist and Kurt cuddled into the embrace, resting his head on the blonde's shoulder. The two were content to stay unseen and alone for the time being, relaxing after an amazing meal.

Sam's thoughts kept going to "later" without his permission. He tried to firmly quash any untoward thoughts and just enjoy the moment with Kurt with a moderate level of success until the slim boy would shift against him or sigh gently.

"Wanna dance?" he asked.

Kurt looked around apprehensively. "Now? Here?"

"No, later," he said teasingly. "Of course, now."

"Are you sure we should?"

Sam frowned in confusion. "Why shouldn't we?"

The slim boy just looked at him significantly until the taller boy cottoned on to his concern.

"Kurt," he began gently. "Are you worried that someone will say something?"

He nodded and looked out over the other guests anxiously. "Yeah."

Sam rubbed his lower back comfortingly. "Don't," he said, pointing to a couple in the middle of the room. Two women swayed together slowly, the patrons around them not batting an eyelash.

The fair boy sighed. "Sorry for being like this."

"It's alright," Sam said. "I can understand why, especially since coming to McKinley."

Kurt grinned up at the blond boy. "Still glad you left Dalton?"

"Oh yeah," the blond said instantly. "I'd rather be taunted at McKinley with you than stifled at Dalton. The only good thing about that place was my friends, and they were a rarity at that place."

Kurt wrinkled his nose in sympathy before tilting his head up for a quick peck. "I think I'd like that dance now."

Sam beamed at him and urged him to the edge of the dance floor, curling an arm around his waist while the other took his hand. He led him in a slow waltz, gracefully swirling amongst the other couples.

Patricia and Robert were engaged in their own dance across the room, staring at one another like they were the ones still in high school.

Sam hoped that he was as lucky as his parents. Most of the kids his age had parents that had long ago fallen out of love with one another. He didn't doubt they cared about one another, but they were no longer enamored with their partner.

He turned his attention back to Kurt and melted when he saw the fair boy's starry-eyed gaze on him. He remembered once thinking that he wished Kurt would look at him like he'd looked at R2. That look had nothing on this.

The music changed to an orchestral version of a popular slow song and he drew Kurt close, leaving next to no space between their bodies. The pale boy laid his head on Sam's shoulder and closed his eyes, smiling contentedly.

He pressed his cheek to Kurt's head and inhaled deeply. As they idly twirled around the dance floor he spotted Gordon sitting on a chair at the bar, glass of wine in hand and a scowl on his face.

For a moment Sam was puzzled by the presence of alcohol, Gordon only being one year older than himself, but then again, he looked much older. He wouldn't put it past the other boy to have a fake ID.

His dark gaze bored into Sam's back and he felt his insides squirm uncomfortably. The look did not bode well. Gordon was quite childish when he didn't get his way; way being Kurt.

Deciding to get a little childish revenge of his own he rotated them until the fair boy's back was to Gordon's intimidating form. He slowly ran his hand over Kurt's body, making lazy circles and pressing kisses to his hairline.

He saw Gordon's form tense form the corner of his eye and had to repress a smile and keep his eyes down. He didn't want the other boy to know he was messing with him. And feeling up his boyfriend in the process; this was a win-win situation, really.

Kurt moved as if he knew Sam's intentions, releasing his hand and winding both arms around his neck and lifting his head to tuck his head under his chin.

This time he let himself smile and wound his arms around Kurt's slim waist. He trailed one hand to rest on the small of his back and slipped it underneath the silky jacket. The slender teen murmured appreciatively and pressed closer, using a hand to stroke across his neck.

Gordon tossed back the remainder of his wine and set the glass on the bar angrily. The other boy was another bully; able to dole out humiliation and hurt without batting an eyelash but unable to stand it when their torment doesn't work, or worse, when it's turned back on them.

Soon, thoughts of Gordon were pushed from his head as the music abruptly changed tempo to an energetic beat. Sam smiled and reluctantly pulled back from Kurt, leading them in a lively swing number.

The next hour passed in a blur of dancing and laughter until Kurt dragged them from the dance floor, panting and red-faced, unable to suppress his giggles.

"I need a drink!" he declared. "Another Shirley Temple?" Sam nodded and went to follow him to the bar but Kurt pressed him back into a chair. "Save our spots. There aren't as many chairs in her and I want to be able to sit when I get back."

He wandered over to the bar and peered around the counter for an empty spot, finding one towards the far end. He squeezed in and caught the eye of the female bartender and ordered two Shirley Temples with a smile.

She grinned back and flitted off, leaving him alone. He tapped a random rhythm out on the wooden lip of the bar and looked up, smiling at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling. His smile was quickly replaced by blankness when he noticed Gordon approaching him.

He really wasn't in the mood for this since it was most likely going to _ruin_ his good mood. He sighed and pretended not to notice him in hopes that he would just go away without saying anything. No such luck.

"Kurt," he purred, voice low and smoky. "Fancy seeing you here."

Kurt turned and plastered a false smile on his face. "I know, it's like I was invited to the charity event or something," he said lightly, hoping the dark teen would take the hint.

The broad teen laughed and the sound irked Kurt. He glanced over at the bartender he'd ordered from, currently mixing a margarita. He nearly regretted being kind and telling her to take her time with his drinks since there were quite a few affluent ladies and gentleman waiting for their own libations.

Gordon slid up to the bar next to him, his arm brushing against Kurt's. The slim boy subtly shifted, breaking the contact.

 _This is so uncomfortable,_ he thought frantically.

Though he resented as sometimes being seen as someone that need rescuing, right now he was more than willing to play the damsel in distress. Unfortunately, Sam's view of him was being blocked by some elaborate marble statue and exotic looking palm foliage.

Next to him the intimidating boy was drinking some strong-smelling amber liquid out of a tumbler. He glanced into his eyes and found them slightly unfocused.

 _Perfect_ , Kurt deadpanned. _Drunk Gordon, just what I wanted._

"Have you grown bored of our blond friend?" he asked slyly.

"Of course not!" Kurt replied brightly. "I was just getting us something to drink."

As much as Gordon annoyed him he didn't want to be baited into a fight, or whatever else the dark skinned boy was looking for.

The boy in question curled his shapely lip in annoyance. "How sweet," he remarked.

Kurt just smiled dumbly and stared at the counter, inwardly freaking out. He may be the baddest bitch around but he still really didn't like awkward, uncomfortable confrontations, especially when he didn't understand someone's motives.

"And how is your evening going with dear Samuel?"

Kurt pretended not to understand the underlying tone of hostility. "Great, thanks for asking," he enthused. "And yours?"

He grinned widely, displaying his perfect teeth. "Much better now that you've come to brighten my dark corner."

There was a time when that would have made Kurt swoon at someone's feet, but that time had passed. Now he saw it for the pickup line it was.

 _What is_ with _this guy?_ he fumed inwardly.

He swallowed the biting response on the tip of his tongue. "How kind of you to say," he settled on.

When his line didn't have the desired effect he could see a storm begin to brew behind his eyes. It was clear this was a person that was used to getting their way and similar lines had enabled him to charm his way into the trousers of many a young man.

But not this one.

"So, tell me Kurt," he began, leaning his toned arm against the counter and crowding into his space. "How did Sam come by someone like you?"

Kurt was already sick of this conversation. "Football camp," he said simply.

The curly haired boy's eyebrows rose in a ridiculous parody of surprise. "What was a prize like you doing at football camp?"

"Prize?" the slender boy asked archly.

"Indeed; football camp is no place for someone like you."

"Hmm," Kurt hummed shortly. "Someone like me?"

 _Be very careful_ , he thought venomously. _I'm no wilting flower._

"Kurt, you don't think that someone like you would last two minutes on the field. I don't really believe it's your type of game."

He huffed in annoyance and turned to face the other boy abruptly. "Let's talk about _your_ type of game, and how I'm not interested in playing."

Gordon was taken aback at Kurt's direct approach, clearly not used to being called on his tricks, never mind rejected.

"I don't know what you're up to or what you want, but it's not going to happen. So, why don't you leave me _and_ Sam alone, because at this point, it's just sad."

The taller boy rose to his full height, anger boiling in his eyes. "Do you know who I am?" he asked highly.

"Yes," Kurt responded. "You are a spoiled, self-important, yet very insecure little boy. You're not satisfied with what you have and you have the need to take things from others to feel good about yourself."

The other teen sputtered indignantly, coloring blooming high on his cheeks, but Kurt wasn't finished.

His voice softened slightly. "Do yourself a favor; drop the 'holier-than-thou' act and do a little soul-searching. Maybe then you won't humiliate yourself the next time we run into each other."

As if on cue, the bartender placed the pink drinks in front of him with a smile. He tossed a ten dollar bill on the bar and beat a hasty retreat, not giving Gordon a chance to retaliate.

He wove his way through couples and waiters and found Sam watching his parents waltzing across the room.

"Sorry it took so long," he apologized. "The bar was swamped."

Sam smiled and took a sip of his drink, exhaling blissfully. "Thanks, baby," he said, patting the chair next to him in invitation. "You said you wanted to sit down."

He sank into the chair gratefully, rolling his ankles and other joints to ease the tension in them. This evening really did a number on him. "I feel so old," he confessed. "We've barely danced an hour and I'm already exhausted."

"Well, they live for this," Sam replied, gesturing towards the affluent couples dancing and displaying boldly. " _And_ they can drink."

Kurt chuckled. "True."

A hulking figure stalked across the floor and left the ballroom in a huff. Gordon.

"Wonder what got into him?" Sam mused.

"Uh," Kurt squeaked quietly. "We…ran into each other at the bar."

"Ran into each other?" he asked skeptically.

Kurt sighed and looked at Sam exasperatedly. Sometimes, it was annoying to have someone know you so well. "Okay, so he came up to me."

"Mhmm," Sam hummed grimly. "What did he want?"

It was Kurt's turn to look at his partner knowingly. "You know what he wanted. I told him I wasn't interested."

"Just like that?" he asked, sounding impressed.

"Well," Kurt admitted. "Not _just_ like that."

He described his encounter with Gordon and smiled when Sam laughed gleefully when he was told Kurt called him a little boy.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

Sam kissed him on the lips. "You're so funny and you don't even know it!"

"…what?" Kurt asked in confusion.

"Gordon's grandfather is the head of the family. He's this sort of staid, perfectionist, business man and Gordon is forever trying to stay on his good-side. When he doesn't, his grandfather calls him 'little boy'."

Kurt nearly snorted in his Shirley Temple. That was too perfect. "Well," he said. "When you're good…"

* * *

Sam and Kurt were some of the last people in attendance as the ball was winding to a close. Throughout the evening, the patrons had raised over 250,000 dollars for charity. Regardless of the reason the money was donated, it was going to do a lot of people a lot of good.

Patricia and Robert had gone up to their room nearly an hour ago when Mr. Evans started to get into a heated argument with someone over whether or not recycled concrete was a viable building material. Sam's mother had seen it for the signal it was and ushered her husband upstairs.

The boys stood and drained the last of their Shirley Temples and ambled over to the elevators. Since the majority of the guests had gone there was no line and the boys stepped into the privacy of the elevator gratefully.

Kurt had felt Gordon's eyes on him the entire night. He knew the other boy wasn't going to attempt to confront them again, it was just unnerving.

Now that they were on the way to their room the tension that had been present between them all night thrummed in anticipation. By the time the elevator displayed the number two Sam had pulled the delicate teen towards him by the tie and kissed him ravenously.

Kurt felt drunk even though he hadn't had a sip of alcohol. His head swam with the heady scent of the boy clutching at him desperately and his mind reeled with the sensation.

They broke apart as the elevator dinged as they reached their floor and tumbled out of the double doors. Kurt grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be pulled towards their door.

Sam fumbled with the key to their door, jamming it in the lock impatiently. The locked finally clicked and the tall boy shoved the door open, the cool air of their room kissing their heated skin. He pulled Kurt in behind him and gently closed the door before throwing the locks.

He made sure the door connecting their room to his parent's was shut and locked firmly before ravishing Kurt's mouth once more. The slender boy lead him back towards the bed they had shared the night before and maneuvered himself onto the high mattress once he felt it hit the backs of his knees.

He shuffled backwards on his knees and pulled Sam onto the bed, letting the strong boy pushing him back into the mound of pillows.

Their arms tangled as they attempted to undress one another simultaneously, falling into a giggling heap when they failed. Kurt looked up at Sam, perfect and genuine and so in love with him.

Kurt smiled. "I love you," he whispered. He wiggled back and grabbed at him bag, rifling through it until he came upon his makeup case. He unzipped the pouched and pulled out a condom from the inside pocket.

He slid back and held the foil package between his fingers, watching as Sam stared at the tiny package.

"I love you," he repeated. "I'm ready, if you are."


	26. Hevan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all aren't going to read the author note for this chapter, so I'll just get to the good stuff :P I just wanted to let y'all know that I am going to do a little backtracking and give you a little of Sam's POV before the big moment.
> 
> Although, I would like to say that there is a bit at towards the end of the story that is for **Akuro13** _ **.**_ You'll know what it is :P
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything and it makes me sad
> 
> Warnings: smut, boys loving other boys, language, dangerous amounts of fluff, etc.

Sam watched as the last of the patrons drifted out of the ballroom. He'd placed his empty glass on the table and helped Kurt up from his chair leading them over to the elevator.

As the night wore on he felt more and more tension building between them; tension that had to culminate soon, otherwise he would explode, and _not_ in a good way.

The doors of the elevator opened and he guided Kurt inside, trying to keep his hands to himself, reminding himself not to push. Wasn't _he_ the one that said it would be best to wait?

What in the world was _wrong_ with him?

By the time the elevator hit the second floor he'd lost his resolve. He pulled the smaller boy towards him and attacked his lips feverishly.

Kurt made a surprised noise and melted into his embrace, body going soft and pliant. All too soon they had reached their floor and the boys needed to pull apart to make their way to the room.

Sam was glad that his father had been dragged to bed by his mother over an hour ago, ensuring that his parents would be asleep and not catch them making out like the teenagers that they were.

He grabbed the keycard from his wallet and attempted to jam it into the electronic lock. When it became clear that muscling the card onto the slot wasn't going to work he took a deep breath and slipped it into the security device calmly.

The light flashed green and there was a click as the giant lock snapped back, letting them tumble into the room. He quickly locked the door behind them and glanced at the door adjoined this room to his parents.

The door was firmly shut and the locks thrown, leaving them in privacy. The cold air felt wonderful on his heated skin, but not enough. He pulled Kurt close and kissed him hungrily, hands grasping at his toned form desperately.

He followed the slight boy as he led them towards the bed they had shared the night before. He felt Kurt slide backwards onto the bed, gently tugging him as well.

Sam pressed the fair teen back against the mound of pillows they had created during their nap. His arms tangled with Kurt's as they both tried to disrobe one another.

They collapsed into a giggling heap, Sam leaning over him, arms braced on either side of his head. Kurt's expression softened and he smiled softly before wiggling away and over to the side of the bed.

The blond boy idly caressed Kurt's waist as he rifled around inside his small makeup case before producing something and hiding it in the palm of his hand.

He slid back underneath Sam's strong form and proffered the small, foil-wrapped square. Sam's thoughts began to race, excited and nervous all at once. His heart rate picked up and he felt heat blossom throughout his entire body.

A condom. He stared at the tiny package dumbly and nearly missed Kurt's words.

"I love you," he said reverently. "I love you. I'm ready, if you are."

He froze in shock for a moment before reaching out to take the foil packet with a shaky hand. "Are you sure?" he asked, feeling cliché and ridiculous.

Kurt just smiled. "I'm sure. Besides, this is kind of the perfect setting," he said, diffusing the tension. "How often are we going to be able to be alone like this?"

It had the desired effect and Sam laughed quietly. He nodded. "Yeah."

He leaned down and kissed the boy slowly, the mood shifting from frantic to sweet. Their tongues tangled but their hands didn't, successfully divesting each other of their clothes.

Soon they were clothed only in their underwear and staring at one another uncertainly. Kurt bit his lip as he tried to stifle his giggles. "No one ever tells you how awkward this can be," he said.

Sam nodded. "Definitely not something you see in the movies," he breathed, blushing.

He swallowed thickly and leaned down, kissing Kurt's collarbone butterfly-soft. He trailed kissed down the boy's creamy skin, alternating between barely-there brushes and steamy open-mouthed nips.

He reached the slender boy's boxer-briefs and looked up at him questioningly as he kissed his quivering navel slowly.

Kurt nodded and slipped his own fingers into the flimsy cotton before slipping them off and down his long, shapely legs.

Sam slid off the end of the bed, slipping off his own boxers and crawling back between Kurt's bent legs. He glanced at the condom near the other boy's pale shoulder, biting his lip in desire and hesitation.

He _really_ didn't want to mess this up. His own first experience with a guy flashed through his head thanks to Gordon's unfortunate presence. If anything, he'd learned what _not_ to do. Gordon Hughes was many things, but generous and patient he was not.

He gently ran his hand over Kurt's thighs and kissed his knee. "Did you… bring any lube?" he asked haltingly. There was no smooth way to ask that and he felt crass and uncomfortable.

Maybe polite euphemisms should be part of sex education. Or maybe he should just adopt the Boy Scout doctrine and always be prepared.

He watched as Kurt nodded and pointed to the makeup case resting on his suitcase. "In the inside pocket," he said simply, blush suffusing his pale cheeks.

Sam shuffled over to the side of the bed on his knees and pulled out a small, unopened bottle of lube. His fingers shook as he attempted to peel the safety seal off the bottle, causing him to drop it.

He shook his head and huffed out a laugh. He snatched up the bottle and gave up trying to be civilized, bringing the bottle to his mouth and biting at the plastic.

"Don't use your teeth!" Kurt said around a laugh, grabbing for the tiny vial.

The seal broke and Sam tore it off triumphantly. "Too late," he grinned, holding the bottle out of reach. He tossed the wrapping over the side of the bed and scooted forward, settling himself between Kurt's legs once more.

The fair teen exhaled shakily, raising his arms above his head and resting them against the mound of pillows, idly rubbing the soft fabric, trying to calm his nerves.

He wanted to do this. He _really_ wanted to do this, but that didn't change the fact that he was nervous. Like, _really_ nervous.

Sam was the picture of perfection and he felt inferior in comparison; bumbling and inexperienced. Regardless of his personal feelings it _quite_ clear that the blond was enjoying this very much. He was gratifyingly nervous and charmingly awkward and it erased a lot of the anxiety Kurt was feeling.

The taller teen discarded the small tube near the condom and leaned down to engage Kurt in a kiss once more. He pressed the length of his body against the slim boy's and relished in the soft, happy noises Kurt made under his breath.

They rocked against one another, their engorged lengths sliding together roughly in a sticky slide. Sam pulled his mouth away from Kurt's and kissed down his chest before latching onto a rosy nipple. He nipped and sucked lightly before kissing across his chest to bestow the same treatment to its twin.

The pale boy keened quietly, mindful of the fact that a wall was all that separated them from Sam's parents. He felt the blonde's wet progress down his torso and was certain that the fair haired boy was sucking a hickey onto the angle of his hipbone.

He nearly bit a hole through his lip when Sam abruptly took his erection into his mouth, swallowing around him tightly. He sank over Kurt's length and hummed lowly, sending the most delicious vibrations up his spine.

The taller boy wrapped his hand around the base of Kurt's cock as he pulled off, stroking his hand up and down the spit-slicked shaft. The fair teen squirmed in pleasure. "Stop stop!" he mewled.

Sam gave one last twist to the sensitive head before pulling off completely. He pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt's pelvis, peppering little pecks across the goosebumped flesh.

"Too much," Kurt said regretfully, breath coming in ragged gasps. "It was too much."

The blond nodded against his hip and shifted back, raising to his knees and reaching forward to snag the bottle that had been pushed under the pillows.

He was distracted by a bead of sweat trailed down Kurt's neck before pooling in the hollow of his throat. He licked his lips and leaned forward, mouthing the flesh with a subtle drag of teeth.

Kurt hooked his fingers under Sam's jaw and pulled him into a kiss, licking into his mouth frantically. The blond pulled back and pressed a soft kiss to his swollen lips before flicking open the cap.

This was slightly familiar territory for the couple. Shy though he was Kurt knew what he liked and what he wanted and what he wanted, god damn it, was for Sam pick up the pace.

He appreciated the slow pace, the love and the romance and all that, but right now he felt like he was going to come and the other boy had barely touched him. He'd like to have a reason if he suddenly lost it other than "You look amazing and I couldn't help it".

He got his wish as he heard the slick sound of Sam spreading the viscous substance over his fingers. He placed his other hand on Kurt's shaky knee and moved his hand between the slender boy's legs.

He pressed against his opening, just pressed, rubbing his fingers in a circle with even, steady pressure. Kurt squirmed restlessly and made an impatient sound in the back of his throat.

He shifted his hips impatiently and felt a white-hot zing of pleasure stab him in the stomach as Sam finally slipped a long, thick finger inside him. " _Uhhn,_ " he groaned quietly.

Sam pulled out and returned with another, stretching him further. He arched his back and curled his toes, finally having to jam his eyes shut. It was too much to watch Sam's rapturous expression and the way he was unwittingly rocking his hips in time to the movement of his fingers.

Kurt threw an arm over his face and bit his lip to stifle an all out cry when Sam added a third finger. "C'mere," he pleaded, raising his head imploringly.

He tilted his head up as Sam fell upon him like a starving man that had been offered food. He pressed his fingers deeper and rubbed over Kurt's prostate as he kissed him, relishing the slick, gritty slide of their cocks together.

"Kurt," he groaned. Then again, "Kurt," like a plea and a curse and a prayer all at once.

The fair boy scrabbled for purchase against the sheets, riding the movements of Sam's plunging fingers. He dug under the pillows for the discarded condom and shoved it at the blond boy wildly. "Now, please now," he pleaded.

Sam nodded frantically and took the foil square from Kurt's flailing hands. With one last, lingering press of his long fingers against the pale teen's prostate he pulled out and sat back on his heels.

He tore the packet open with shaky fingers, nervous and excited and moved and eager and a ton of other clichéd but wonderfully true adjectives. He slipped the latex sheath over the stalk of his manhood, stroking over the length with his slippery fingers.

Kurt had sat up while he did this, staring at his cock apprehensively. Sam would have offered to stop but the flush of arousal on the other boy's cheeks reassured him. Kurt wasn't an idiot like he was; he wouldn't be worried about upsetting him by telling him he changed his mind.

"How should we…um, how do you want to do this?" Kurt asked.

Sam swallowed thickly and made a sound he would be embarrassed about later. "How—however makes you comfortable," he stuttered out.

Kurt briefly debated before laying back and making himself comfortable against the pillows. He'd read it would be easier on his stomach but he really just didn't have the nerve.

He was already so nervous and unsure that cutting off the only avenue telling him if he was doing things right seemed stupid. Besides, cliché as it was, he didn't want to stare at a pillow or hotel headboard the first time he had sex. Talk about awkward.

Maybe next time. The illustrations in the pamphlet lauding the benefits of such positions were intriguing, to say the least.

Sam shuffled forwards and positioned himself, arm braced near his head and leaning down to kiss Kurt as he guided himself towards the fair boy's hole. "Ready," he asked breathlessly.

Kurt nodded vehemently, pressing back into Sam's hardness in response. The blond grunted softly before glancing downwards and pressing forwards slowly.

Kurt's breath caught as he felt himself stretch impossibly wide. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Sam's back. He planted his feet flat on the bed and raised up slightly, making the other teen hiss as he found himself unexpectedly enveloped in Kurt's tight heat.

Sam took a deep breath to steady himself and looked at Kurt's face. His mouth was open and his eyes were unfocused. His hair was in disarray and there was a delicate flush on his cheeks. The blond leaned down and sucked a lingering kiss to his neck, feeling Kurt's pulse race.

He realized Kurt was holding his breath and rubbed his hands under Kurt's arched back. "Breathe, baby."

The fair boy exhaled shakily and gave him a wobbly smile. "I'm okay," he said, answering Sam's unasked question.

He reflexively closed his eyes as Sam shifted even further inside him, trying not to tense. He was glad that he was finally comfortable and confident enough to be intimate with someone, especially since that someone was Sam, but he was really ready for this to start being as good as people described.

Sam groaned quietly when he was completely encased in Kurt's body, trying his best to stay still. He stopped to mouth at Kurt's neck and chest and moved to his ear, suckling softly.

Kurt gasped and shifted his hips, wincing when it proved to be too soon. Sam had trailed down to his hip and held firmly, his hips shifting towards him jerkily, face pressed into the crook of his neck. "Kurt," he whispered.

He circled his hips slowly, feeling Kurt relax around him incrementally before sighing and arching into the caresses.

There was a moment where it went from _Oh god, I don't know if I can do this_ to _Don't you dare stop_ like a switch was flipped. Kurt arched his back and his hands slid from Sam's shoulders to his lower back, encouraging him to move.

"Sam," he breathed. "Move, please."

Not one to disappoint, the blond pulled back slightly only to flex forward once again, sighing happily when he heard Kurt's delighted intake of breath.

Though the fair boy's erection had wilted some during the initial penetration it was now rapidly hardening once more. He bit his bottom lip and cooed softly, trying to keep quiet.

Sam grabbed Kurt's leg and pressed it to his chest, enabling him to slide even deeper inside him. The fair boy tossed his head back and groaned, rocking back into the hard shaft impaling him. "Sam," he sighed.

The blond braced his hand against the headboard and shuffled forward until Kurt's hips rested in the cradle of his thighs, fingers digging into sharp hipbones. "God, Kurt."

With the added leverage Sam was able to skate against that spot that made him see stars with every movement. Kurt shifted until his feet were flat against the bed and pressed up into the muscular teen's thrusts, feeling giddy-pressure build in his chest when Sam's teeth dug into his shoulder with every flex of his hips.

He groaned against Kurt's creamy shoulder, desperately trying to hold back and hold on. He was already insanely close and he didn't want to finish before Kurt had really even begun. He'd been there and it was frustrating beyond belief and he definitely wasn't going to leave him hanging his first time.

He took a deep breath and grit his teeth, his other hand coming up and clutching the pillow near Kurt's head and thrust up roughly. Kurt cried out delightedly, hands coming up to press against the headboard, using the momentum to force himself back into the motion of Sam's hips.

" _Fuck_ ," Sam swore under his breath. "So good."

Kurt mewled and nodded in agreement, fingers scrambling against the smooth wood of the headboard for purchase. Sam took his hands and wrapped Kurt's arms around his neck.

He slid moved his hands from the headboard and wrapped them around the small of Kurt's back, shifting their hips together ever closer. The blond gingerly sat up, pulling Kurt into his lap. The slender teen lost his balance momentarily before bracing himself on his knees.

Sam laid back, the hands resting on Kurt's hips two points of scorching heat. The smaller teen suddenly found himself staring down at his boyfriend, his face flushed and open.

"This okay?" Sam asked, flexing his hips up.

Kurt's mouth fell open in a silent cry, head bowed. His hands came to rest on the blonde's defined chest. "Uh-huh," Kurt replied distractedly, shifting restlessly, searching for the right angle.

He made a frustrated sound and braced his hands on either side of Sam's neck, fingers digging into the sheets desperately. "I can't…" he whined, trailing off, riding the blond in frantic little motions.

Sam shifted so his feet were flat on the bed, thrusting up into Kurt's welcoming heat. The other boy gasped, tossing his head back as the tanned teen skated over his prostate.

He wanted to beg, wanted to say _harder, faster, anything_ but his throat was too constricted for words. He felt that electric tingle of pleasure growing low in his abdomen making him whimper and rock on top of Sam feverishly.

He hunched over Sam's toned form and kissed him heatedly, their tongues tangling heatedly. "Please," he begged, eyes squeezed shut and not certain what he was asking for. " _Uhn."_

The blond nodded and wrapped on hand around Kurt's stiff, velvet flesh, stroking him firmly. The fair boy bit his lip to stifle the keening shriek that was threatening to erupt from his parched throat.

He curled forward and buried his face into Sam's neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh he found there. The white-hot pleasure that was bubbling up him inside abruptly boiled over. He felt his entire body go taught as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over him.

He vaguely registered Sam's tortured groan underneath him, shaking in response to the _ohmygodtight_ heat getting even more so. Kurt knew he was murmuring nonsensically but couldn't make himself stop, much like he couldn't stop himself from rocking atop the blond teen even though the sensation was bordering on too much.

"Shh," Sam soothed, running a hand down his slick back.

He whimpered one last time and stilled, drawing in breath greedily. He speared his fingers in Sam's disheveled hair and nuzzled into his throat, shivering as aftershocks wracked his body. "Sam," he whispered.

The blond groaned and shifted restlessly though he was trying to keep still. Kurt untangled one hand form Sam's tousled locks and trailed it down the muscular boy's body to where they were joined. His fingers framed the base of his erection making Sam groan and jerk up into Kurt's lax body.

The slight boy gasped, tightening his fingers around Sam's cock. "C'mon," he encouraged, whispering against the shell of his ear. He rocked down, meeting the minute flexing of Sam's hips. "It's okay."

Sam made a devastatingly grateful sound and rolled them over, pistoning into Kurt's relaxed body. He felt himself hold his breath as he got closer and closer to his own release, emitting a deep growl as he thrust forward one last time and froze, emptying himself inside the smaller boy.

His limbs felt like a lead noodles, heavy but strangely limp and shapeless. He peppered kissed across Kurt's temple and forehead. "Kurt," he breathed, searching for his lips.

The smaller boy made a happy noise into Sam's mouth, kissing him back languidly. He rested his forehead against Kurt's and inhaled deeply before sliding his own hand to tangle with the slim boy's finger still framing his softening erection for a moment before gripping the condom and pulling out.

Kurt winced, becoming aware of a soreness beginning to settle in. He moved experimentally and grunted softly. Though it was nothing unbearable, he was certain he was going to be feeling this come morning. He vaguely thought he was grateful for Patricia scheduling them a spa day.

He chuckled under his breath and Sam looked at him questioningly, absently rubbing his hands over Kurt's body with a cloth he'd grabbed while disposing the condom; half cleaning, half caressing. He shared his thoughts and the other boy sniggered in return before sobering. "Was I—"

"No," Kurt declared, cutting him off. Then again, gentler this time. "No, you weren't."

He shifted against the taller boy, cuddling into his side. He hitched a leg over Sam's body and pressed a wet, lingering kiss to his shoulder. "Love you," he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt a bone deep lassitude seep into his veins.

He felt Sam smile as he pressed a kiss to his head. "I love you too. So much."

* * *

Kurt sat next to Patricia as they got pedicure, feet soaking in the warm, bubbly water. He had been fighting a blush this entire morning. No matter what they were talking about or doing, in the back of his mind he kept thinking _I had sex with your son. I had sex with your son while you were in the other room. I wasn't quiet. Oh god, you know; you have to. Any minute now you're going to corner me and threaten my shoe collection if I ever go near your baby again._

Needless to say, none of those things happened. Mrs. Evans' and Kurt were largely silent, enjoying their pampering and trying not to drift off into a contended slumber.

He had been right; he was quiet sore when he woke this morning. Instead of making him uncomfortable, it only served to make him remember the night before in startling detail. Every twinge was like a flashback and he nearly moaned aloud at one point during his massage.

His cheeks were burning with his impure thoughts, making him feel like a naughty puppy.

Soon their pedicures would be over and they were supposed to meet the Robert and Sam in the lobby to begin the trip home. Sam had texted him a few moments ago, letting him know he'd returned from the armory and was packing their room up so they would be ready to leave when he was finished.

This morning was not the captivatingly awkward and romantic moment they had anticipated so he was looking forward to the drive home together. They had talked late into the night, hands roaming each other's tired bodies, not falling asleep until well past three in the morning.

They were awoken by the Evans' knocking on the door, wanting to go down to breakfast before starting their respective dates.

The boys had cursed fervently and called that they would be ready in a moment, making Kurt throw together an out haphazardly for the first time in his life. They tumbled out of the door and hurried to the dining room, Kurt panicking about his hickey-covered skin and begin glad he had the sense to bring a few scarves with him on this trip.

Luckily, the robes they offered in the spa had large, fluffy collars; perfect for covering his love-bitten skin. He glared at the blond boy that didn't even have the good graces to look ashamed while he quickly wrapped the fabric around his neck. To the contrary; he looked quite smug about it.

The nail technician put the finishing touches on his pedicure (clear coat, of course) and patted his feet, signaling she was done. He sighed happily and let her slip on the disposable flip-flops on his feet and lead him over to the table with the fancy lights that dried your nails, you know, with magic or whatever.

When he and Patricia were given the okay to leave they headed to the fanciest lockers rooms Kurt had ever seen to change back into their clothes. He was already planning what bouquet to send her as a thank you for such a lovely morning, even if he spent a ridiculous amount of time either worrying about her discovering his actions last night or dwelling on the (rather lovely) actions themselves.

They practically glided out into the lobby, Mr. Evans having already settled the bill. Robert was anxious to go, knowing that his trip would undoubtedly take twice as long as his son's since he was driving with his wife.

"Ready to go, Pat?" he asked. She nodded serenely and hugged both him and her son before breezing out to the car.

Robert puffed out a breath and clapped both of them on the shoulders before trudging after his wife. Once he was out of earshot, Sam broke into laughter. "My poor dad," he lamented.

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked at Sam fondly. "Ready to go?" he asked.

Sam nodded and led Kurt out of the lobby where the car was waiting. The slim boy hopped into his Navigator and winced when he landed harder than he anticipated.

The blond got inside and started the engine, smiling over at Kurt as he clicked his seatbelt. "Coffee?" he asked.

Kurt chuckled and nodded as Sam pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to the Dunkin Donuts across the street. "Did you even have to ask?"

The other boy shrugged and pulled into the drive-thru line, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. When he was up to the speaker he ordered each of them a pumpkin iced coffee and leered at Kurt when he groaned as he took the first sip.

"I think you've had enough fun," he teased shifting pointedly.

"Sorry," Sam said, grinning unabashedly.

Kurt rolled him eyes and took his straw between his teeth. "Mmhmm."

The fair teen was glad his car was an automatic, freeing up Sam's other hand to intertwine with his. They were mostly silent on the ride home, content to just sit and listen to one of Kurt's mellow playlists until suddenly, Kurt groaned.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Mercedes," he replied.

Sam looked puzzled. "Mercedes?"

Kurt sighed. "Do you ever wish that your best friend didn't know you so well?"

The blond thought for a moment before nodding slowly. "Sometimes, when I don't want to talk about something or something like that."

"It may surprise you to find out that a vast portion of Mercedes' and my friendship revolves around fashion," he said dryly, showing just how shocking Sam should find that.

The other boy pretended to be taken aback before winking and gesturing for Kurt to continue.

"I may have had strong opinions about accessories in the past. Scarves, specifically," he said, illuminating _nothing_ , as far as Sam was concerned.

"And what opinions might those be?"

"That anyone wearing a scarf more than two days in a row when the weather doesn't call for it is either hiding a hickey or is using it to keep their head on their shoulders. And _these_ ," he emphasized, pulling down the scarf and bearing the deep purple marks, "are not two day hickeys."

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing, focusing all his attention on the road. "Whoops?"

"Don't you 'whoops' me, Samuel Jordan. I'm going to have to wear long under-layers too, since you mauled my hip as well."

The taller boy couldn't take it anymore and laughed uproariously.

"We'll see how funny it is when _you're_ the one wearing a scarf during the summer," he threatened.

Sam pulled his hand to his lips and brushed a series of soft kisses over Kurt's delicate knuckles. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Kurt was right; sometimes, Sam really wished Blaine didn't know him so well. They had finally reached his house and unloaded his things _hours_ before his parents were due to arrive.

Sadly, the two of them had homework they needed to complete that would _never_ get done if they were around one another since they could barely keep their hands to themselves, even in the car.

They said a prolonged goodbye in the driveway, Sam not realizing that Blaine's was, in fact, home. His car was parked in the garage because, as Sam would later find out, it had rained quite hard when the dark haired boy was returning from Puck's and he didn't want to get soaked.

After Kurt had driven away, Sam slowly climbed the front steps, a goofy grin on his face; a grin that abruptly changed to horror and embarrassment when he saw his friend sitting in the living room with a wicked smile on his face.

"Good weekend?" he asked knowingly.

* * *

It was Tuesday, and as predicted, Mercedes jumped all over him about his new scarf obsession. Thankfully, she's exercised a shred of tact and confronted him about it in their shared history class, via note.

_Boy, you betta dish. What's with the Return of the Scarf?_

Kurt sighed and glanced up at Mrs. Hannigan, still writing notes on the overhead projector. Since it was ten thousand years old it was the kind that used the transparencies and required all the lights to be off, enabling him and Mercedes to pass notes unnoticed.

He sighed and caught his friend's eye. He placed a finger in front of his lips, gesturing her to be quiet and keep her cool, for the love of Prada.

He used that same finger to pull his scarf away from his neck, just enough for her to see the outline of an enthusiastic love bite.

Her eyes widened comically and she snatched the paper between them, scribbling furiously. She pushed the paper towards him, the single sheet making a soft hiss as it slid over the smooth desk.

_Oh my GOD, how in the world did that happen? You've been holding out on me!_

He sighed and added his own, tidier scrawl to the paper.

_Mercy, if you think I am going to write down how this happened, you've lost your mind._

She read it and slumped dramatically over her backpack before springing up and writing.

_Did you…?_

She looked at him significantly and Kurt briefly considered lying to her, unsure that she was going to be able to contain herself. Well, that and he didn't really want to go into detail about his love life. His extremely personal, exceedingly new, decidedly intimate, love life.

He sighed before sucking it up and nodded once, sharply. His friend drew in a deep breath and he clapped a hand over her mouth, glaring at her pointedly.

She made a rueful face but reached over and shook him by the knee. _OH MY GOD_ she wrote. _OH MY_ _GOD_ _!_

Kurt rolled his eyes and knew that she was going to drag him away from the cafeteria to hear a play-by-play of what had happened this weekend.

 _Destroy this paper_ he wrote firmly, underlining it multiple times.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. _You know I will._

Kurt smiled. _I know. Since I won't_ _talk_ _write about my weekend where it can be found, what about you?_

 _Hung out with Rachel_ she wrote. _Watched RENT and Westside Story. Her parents have a painting of her in their basement. It's really creepy._

Kurt chuckled silently and nodded. It really _was_ creepy. And not that they had a portrait of her, no. What was creepy was her expression; it was really… driven. Um, she looked very… alert.

Okay, she looked crazy, but don't tell her that. He looked down as saw Mercedes had added to their conversation.

_I met that really cute footballer player you wanted to set me up with at the library. He asked me out for coffee…_

Kurt quickly rapped the pencil against her hand, causing a smacking sound to fill the air. Once Mrs. Hannigan was focused on the projector once more, Kurt wrote furiously.

 _And_ _ I'm _ _the one holding out on_ _ you _ _?_

* * *

Football practice ended early on Wednesday when Azimio and Dunham got into a fight over whose fault it was that players were getting through the line, resulting in a shoving match.

This shoving match culminated in Azimio shoving Dunham into one of the practice tires, making him tumble and knock over a cheerleader, Becky Johnson, that had come over to give a message to Coach Beiste.

The resulting wrath of Coach Sylvester was terrifying. For once, the two coaches were in complete agreement when they chastised the two boys. The football coach allowed Sue to have control over the boys' punishment, knowing of her soft spot for the sweet girl.

He'd taken a quick shower, not needing to scrub off the normal amount of grime after a long practice. It had barely lasted forty-five minutes before the incident that would surely haunt Azimio and Dunham as long as they were at McKinley High.

He drove home, not knowing what he was going to do with his unexpectedly free afternoon. Then a bug the size of a moose smashed into his window, leaving a smudge that covered an impressive amount of windscreen.

Wash his car; definitely wash his car. It had been a while since he's shown his baby some quality attention. He stopped at the auto store and picked up some supplies, having used his after there had been some crazy wind after his mom gardened, blowing fertilizer all over his Camaro.

He pulled into the driveway and jogged upstairs to take the Frenchie out and change into his swim trunks. As he walked R2 down the long driveway, taking his time to fill his afternoon, his phone rang. _Fools Rush In_ played quietly and he fumbled for the contraption in his deceptively deep pockets.

_Hey, I heard about what happened at practice. Did you make it out okay? Coach S can be crazy when it comes to one of her own being wronged_

Sam smiled and tapped out a response. _Just fine_ he said. _Walking R2 right now, then gonna wash my car_

He turned to make his way back to the house, glancing back when the leash went taught. R2-D2 had laid down on the ground and looked up at him with those big eyes that seemed to say _You're kidding, right? I'm done walking. Carry me, human!_

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Silly creature," he chided, carrying him to the little stake he'd placed in the ground near his car. His phone rang once more while he was securing R2's leash to the spike.

_Want some help?_

Sam raised his eyebrows speculatively. Did he want to see Kurt in a bathing suit with the potential of getting wet and bending over his admittedly hot car? What kind of question was that?

_Of course! :) Bring a bathing suit!_

He booped R2 on the nose and jogged up the stairs, setting some unsweetened tea to brew and waiting for Kurt's response.

_Be there in a few!_

Sam smiled and hustled back downstairs, laughing when he saw that his tiny pup had nestled himself into a canopy under the bushes, wiggling down into the dirt. "Looks like you're going to need a bath, too," he cooed.

He filled up buckets of water and grabbed the sponges and rags, the other boy pulling up as he was trying to coax R2-D2 out from under the Azalea bush.

He stepped out of his Lincoln, already dressed in his suit and Sam wondered if Glee had been cancelled early too, since Kurt would usually be in practice until well past five and it was barely four.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked gently, seeing Sam half inside a blindingly pink bush.

Sam smiled and finally snagged his dog. "Someone decided that this was a great hiding spot," he said, hefting the little pup.

"Daww," the other boy cooed, rubbing under his dirt smudged chin and little potbelly. "Well, you picked a very pretty cave."

The blond chuckled and moved the lawn spike so the puppy could rest under a tree instead of a bush. "Stay put," he commanded gently before trotting off to his car. "Want a drink before we start?"

Kurt nodded and Sam went upstairs, grabbing the glasses and putting a lemon in Kurt's so he could tell them apart, otherwise one of them would be getting a nasty surprise.

He went back outside and handed Kurt his glass while taking a sip of his own. He placed his cup on the step and turned on the hose, holding the cords together to prevent it from spraying everywhere.

"Did Glee end early?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Kinda. We had solo auditions for the group numbers today, so things always get a little crazy. Everyone that wanted to tried out and then we voted. Santana and Puck got the solos, and then it just fell apart. Rachel was just _freaking out_ and simultaneously berating everyone in earshot and managing to give them the silent treatment at the same time. Then she and Santana got into a fight and I knew that we weren't going to get _anything done_. I slipped out while Mr. Schue was trying to prevent Santana from going all 'Lima Heights' on Rachel."

"Rebel," Sam teased. "I like it."

He bent over and gave the boy a kiss before pulling back and dousing the boy with water. The slim teen shrieked in surprise batted at the liquid uselessly. "Sam!"

The blond laughed heartily before turning the hose on the car, wetting down his Camaro.

"I can't believe you did that," Kurt said incredulously.

Sam grinned cheekily. "You looked hot," he returned with a wink.

The fair boy flushed and snapped a towel as him in retaliation before dipping a big sponge in the soapy water and getting to work on the hood of the car. "Did you hit a _bird_?" he asked, seeing the giant bug mark from earlier.

"Some crazy, mutant bug. It kinda inspired this whole car wash idea," he explained. If he'd hit a bird he'd be a great deal more upset. He _liked_ birds, okay?

Kurt grimaced as he rubbed the mark of the windscreen. "It was a good idea," he commended.

Sam put down the hose and quickly walked towards the spicket to turn it off and help Kurt with the scrubbing. He kept sneaking glancing at the slim teen as he washed the grit from his car, thankful that the cold water was helping kill the erection that was threatening to pop up inappropriately.

The shirt Kurt had been wearing was a pale yellow and was now soaked through with water and suds, rendering it mostly transparent. When the fair boy stretched to reach a far spot it pulled tight across his chest and displayed the tiny discs of his nipples.

When he pulled back to wipe at his brown with his dry(ish) forearm it made the fabric cling to his skin and slowly slid upwards, displaying the hickey he'd made on Kurt's prominent hipbone. He bit his lip and was lost in thought until a stream of cold water hit him in the back.

He whirled around and was Kurt smirking devilishly, holding the hose with an innocent look on his face. "You looked like you needed to cool off."

Sam shook his head and advanced on Kurt slowly.. "Looked like I needed to cool off," he parroted. "C'mere you! Gimme that hose."

Kurt giggled and let go of the kink he was holding to prevent the water from spraying everywhere. It jetted out and splashed Sam in the chest, making him pause long enough for him to drop the hose and flit away.

He had barely rounded the car when Sam had grabbed him around the waist, mercilessly tickling his sides. Kurt shrieked and attempted to wiggled away with little success. All he'd managed to do was turn so he was facing his tormentor.

"Stop stop!" he pleaded.

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," he said, fingers digging into Kurt's insistently.

"Please!" he shrieked around a laugh.

"Hmm," Sam began thoughtfully, still tickling. "What will you give me if I stop?"

The slender teen squirmed fitfully. "Anything!" he promised desperately.

"Anything?" Sam asked slowly, fingers going from tickling to caressing.

The pale boy nodded frantically, panting. "Anything," he clarified.

Sam voice deepened to what Kurt thought of as his bedroom voice. "Gimme a kiss," he commanded softly.

"A kiss?" he asked, surprised the blond had gone with something so tame. He knew most teenage boys would have taken "anything" and tried to milk it for all it was worth.

"Mhmm," Sam replied, arms loosening around him but still keeping him close.

Kurt tilted his head up and Sam closed his eyes, lowering his head to meet him only to fling them open and the slender boy gave him a quick shove and slipped out of his hold.

He waggled a teasing finger at him. "Never let your guard down," he said slyly. "Don't they teach you that in football?"

Sam mock-growled before taking off after the spritely boy at a run. Kurt let out a delighted laugh and ran into the grass, the hose left unattended on the driveway.

Though Kurt was fit, the boy stood no chance against McKinley's star quarterback. He scooped Kurt off his feet, pretend tackling him to the ground.

The fair boy struggled underneath him, expecting the blond to tickle him again and slightly confused when he didn't.

"Well?" Sam asked lowly. "Where's my kiss?"

A lazy grin bloomed on Kurt's face, the slim boy melting into the soft, fragrant grass. He tilted his face up and waited for Sam to lean down.

The blond boy pressed his full lips to Kurt's and kissed him slowly, tongues twining languorously. The slim boy made an appreciative sound and pressed forward, deepening the kiss.

Since they had come back from their amazing weekend away, they hadn't had much time to together. Quite frankly, he was a teenager and he wanted to kiss his boyfriend, like, all the time. This was one of the few stereotypes about teenage-dom that Kurt had no intention of fighting.

Sam's hand slid under his wet shirt, finger finding the slightly-sore hickey on his hip and pressing lightly. Kurt gasped and broke the kiss, tossing his head back.

The taller boy nipped at his collar bone through his shirt and his hands started to fumble with the ties on his shorts.

"Sam," he sighed, automatically spreading his thighs. He laid his head back and opened his eyes, suddenly remembering their surroundings. "Wait!" he said frantically, batting at the other boy's hands. "What about…" he trailed off, looking up at the house.

"Gone," Sam answered, kissing his way down the soft yellow cotton. "At work."

Kurt bit his lip and tried to remember why he protesting in the first place. Oh, yeah _getting caught_. "And Blaine?" he asked.

Sam chuckled. "Guess," he whispered to Kurt's bellybutton.

The pale boy smiled knowingly. "Puck's," he answered breathlessly.

"Uh-huh," the blond confirmed. "So unless you have a problem with R2 being here, can I…?" he trailed off, pulling on Kurt's bathing suit strings with his teeth.

Kurt patted Sam's head lightly. "Carry on."

The tanned boy laughed lightly and peeled open his trunks, sucking at the skin around Kurt's shaft before grasping him in his hand and stroking firmly. He watched as the muscles in the fair boy's abdomen clenched sporadically, lapping at the head before abruptly sinking his mouth over the shaft.

Kurt gurgled in surprised, the deep sound cutting off as he clapped a hand to his mouth. Sam held his hips down and bobbed his head rhythmically, humming softly.

The slender boy whimpered at the gentle vibrations, feeling his erection get even harder. "Oh, God, _Sam_ ," he whined, shifting agitatedly in the grass.

He was sure that he was going to have grass stains _everywhere_ but he didn't care. As long as Sam kept doing that thing with his tongue, he couldn't care less.

He grabbed handfuls of the grass and made a surprised sound when the blades snapped in his fingers. He moaned aloud when Sam sunk even deeper over his shaft, a hand coming to wrap around the base and caress him teasingly.

He dropped the blades of grass staining his fingers a light green and speared them through Sam's hair. "C'mere," he begged, tugging the flaxen haired boy up his body.

He kissed him, tasty his own slightly bitter flavor on Sam's tongue and ricked his hips up into the muscular teen's body. His hands tangled in the ties and velcro of Sam's own suit and he managed to get them undone after some struggling.

His fingers encircled Sam's hot length and pumped up and down slowly. The other boy moaned into his mouth and hitched one of Kurt's legs around his waist.

He grabbed Kurt's hands, lacing their fingers, and pressed them into the grass above their heads. He rocked down into the other boy and they sighed happily into each other's mouths.

Sam gripped Kurt's hands tighter and made a sound deep in the back of his throat, thrusting down into the welcoming cradle of Kurt's creamy thighs.

He groaned as he felt Kurt scrape against his neck with his teeth, worrying the skin the gently. He rocked down even harder and relished the soft, keening cries it wrenched from Kurt's throat.

The fair boy's mouth opened in a silent scream and Sam could feel the hot spray of Kurt's release between them. He grunted in response and quickened his pace, rutting against the other boy's soft, yielding body.

Within moments he was crying out in his own orgasm, muscles tightening painfully before that blissful release. He breathed out shakily, looking down at the flushed boy beneath him.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and smiled peacefully. The light haired boy moved to flop to the side but Kurt tightened his hold, making a protesting noise.

"M'too heavy," Sam protested, but Kurt shook his head emphatically.

He reluctantly relaxed on top of the slim boy, not wanting to crush him but wanting to Kurt what he wanted. Eventually, he did roll to the side, taking Kurt with him.

The sun was only just starting to dip in the sky as they started to shift uncomfortable. Their sticky come had begun to dry into their wet clothes but they couldn't bear to separate just yet. They'd redressed, a wiggling, difficult process while on the ground, but Kurt was unwilling to lay in the front yard with his cock out of his pants where anyone could see.

Kurt was giggling against Sam's neck when he felt a cold spot being pressed against the back of his neck. He yelped and ended up rolling on top of the blond boy, accidentally elbowing him in the stomach. He looked at the culprit and his body shook with laughter.

R2.

"He scared me," Kurt whispered into Sam's chest.

The other boy hummed in amusement, rubbing behind the Frenchie's ears. "Oh, yeah. He's terrifying."

Kurt scoffed. "Oh, shush."

He levered himself off the strong boy, making sure that Sam felt every sharp angle and bony joint he had. The blond grunted at the rough treatment, swiping at Kurt's behind as he pulled away.

"Mean," he declared, watching at Kurt pointedly ignored him and cuddled the little dog closer, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

Sam sat up and scooted over to him, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He pressed a soft kiss behind Kurt's ear and rested his cheek on his shoulder, peering down his chest at the content gray blob in Kurt's arms.

The delicate boy relaxed into Sam's embrace and sighed as the blonde's calloused fingers caressed his sides and back, the other hand coming around him to pat R2-D2.

Kurt pressed a kiss to the silky head and crawled forward to place the little pup under the tree. With one last rub he stood and brushed off his clothes as best we could. "We should probably finish the car. I know the soap isn't supposed to sit for too long."

Sam nodded reluctantly and got up, stretching like a giant cat. Kurt chuckled and flushed, hands covering his heating cheeks. "We should probably clean _you_ up too," he said, gesturing to the dried patch of come on his dark swim shorts.

Sam colored. "Uh, right."

R2 stretched out beneath the tree happily. All was well in his little Frenchie world.

His human had been so happy since he'd come back from where he went this past weekend, which, in his puppy opinion, took _way_ too long. He _never_ thought he was going to come back, sheesh.

Don't get him wrong, he loved Blaine, but he put stuff in his hair that made it flat and wouldn't let him lick it out. Couldn't he tell that he was only trying to help? It's not like he had poodle hair, for goodness sake!

Anyway, he thought it might have something to do with the pretty human that Sam had been hanging out with lately and he wriggled smugly as the scene earlier proved his thoughts.

He liked that Kurt boy. He was nice and liked to cuddle and smelled good and _never_ pulled on his tail like those kids in the pet shop did and he totally understood that he loved his belly rubbed.

Next to Sam he was like, the best human ever. Sam thought so too. R2 was pretty sure that if he had a tail it would be wagging like mad.

He watched Sam's besotted look as he watched Kurt stick out his tongue in concentration, trying to clean the tires wells. Yeah, totally wagging. It was like he was looking at a bone or those shoes with the pointy heels that Sam's mom liked to wear.

Kurt stood and looked over at Sam, blushing when he saw his rapturously expression. He heard Ms. Patricia say that Sam was in puppy love, but that was just silly. After all, hewas a puppy, so he would know.

This was just regular love, _duh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da!
> 
> Two suggestions done in one chapter! And two smut scenes! I'm on a roll :P
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think ^_^
> 
> xoxo
> 
> .


	27. Take a Hike

The next three weeks went by quickly and before McKinley knew it, homecoming was upon them. Now just two weeks away, the homecoming game and dance were a red letter date on everyone's calendars.

Since that fateful weekend at the Ritz-Carlton, Sam and Kurt had become inseparable. During Kurt's *ahem* research, he'd read so many horror stories about their significant other breaking up with them shortly after, male and female alike.

He was 99.9% certain that Sam wouldn't do that to him, but a tiny, insecure part of himself said that there was nothing stopping him. So yeah, sometimes he was an idiot, but he was in love. It kinda came with the territory.

It was Monday afternoon, and that meant football practice. Kurt had been sitting in for the practices for the past two weeks and, luckily, there hadn't been another field goal incident.

The bruises on his face had long since faded and he was content to watch Sam run up and down the field with his friends. The fact that those stirrup pants couldn't hide a damn thing was just a bonus.

Since they had fooled around washing the Camaro, the teens had really had the chance to be alone and it was really starting to annoy Kurt. Whereas before the pale teen could barely think about the word "sex" without blushing, now he could entertain all sorts of fantasies and not bat an eyelash; and fantasize he did.

Lately his favorite was fooling around _in_ Sam's Camaro but that was just impractical; it _barely_ had a backseat.

Coach Beiste blew the whistle, signaling the end of practice, and Kurt smiled. He slow headed down the bleachers and waited at the fence, smiling when Sam trotted over, eye black smudged and making him look like a very adorable raccoon.

"Hey, baby," he said breathlessly, leaning in for a quick peck.

"Hi," Kurt responded, eyes hooded with contentment.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight behind Sam's shoulder. One of the Cheerios was flipping her ponytail and twirling her skirt at Finn, clearly making eyes at him from across the field.

Sam turned around and saw what had captured Kurt's attention and laughed. "How long has that been going on?" Kurt asked.

Sam shrugged, wrinkling his nose as he looked at Kurt due to the bright afternoon sun. "A week or so?"

"Hmm," Kurt mused. "I'll have to look into this. I don't know that girl and I'll be damned he's going to date some kind of Santana. No offense to her, or anything," he said quickly. "She'd just eat him alive, and the Rachel fallout was enough to deal with."

The blond grimaced, remembering that particularly dark time at McKinley. Coach Beiste blew on her whistle in a few short, sharp bursts.

"Showers!" she bellowed.

Sam turned and looked at him apologetically before kissing him once more and backing away from the fence. "Wanna get coffee?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "I'm just going to talk to Brittany but I'll wait by my car, 'kay?"

Sam gave him a thumbs up, making him chuckle, and trotted off to the showers. Kurt watched him for a moment before snatching up his satchel and hustling over to his favorite blonde Cheerio.

"Brit!" he called.

The simple girl turned and smiled at him, waving enthusiastically. "Hi, Kurt!"

She flounced over to him, since Coach Sylvester had called practice to a close. Santana hovered in the background, looking at the two of them suspiciously but trying to appear nonchalant about it. She wasn;t fooling anyone, except maybe Brittany.

"How are you?" he asked dutifully.

The blonde girl beamed. "Great," she enthused, bouncing in place. "Santana and I are going to watch _Sweet Valley High_ later."

He smiled politely before getting right to it. "Who's that girl talking to Finn?"

She twirled around to get a look at the leggy redhead hanging on his soon-to-be-stepbrother's every word. "Oh," she said brightly. "That's Katherine. She just joined the squad this year."

He nodded distractedly, staring at the girl in question. "Lopez," he said suddenly, making Brittany look around in confusion. "Don't pretend you aren't listening. What the story with this girl?"

The feisty girl came up behind Brittany and linked pinkies with her, their hands swinging idly. His well manicured eyebrow flicked upward in a _who do you think you're fooling_ gesture, but he left it alone.

Santana shrugged. "Don't really know much about her," she admitted. He could tell that fact irked the curious (nosy) girl. "She's kinda quiet but really good; clearly has the hots for Frankenteen. I'll see what I can dig up."

He nodded in thanks. "I owe you," he said, the words like vinegar in his mouth.

She smiled like a shark and winked as she led the other girl away. "Don't worry; I'll collect."

Kurt smiled tightly and waved as the cheerleaders sauntered off. That's what he was afraid of.

Kurt and Sam pulled in to The Daily Grind and made their way to the counter, each ordering a seasonal coffee. They were both excited over the arrival of pumpkin flavoring to their caffeine dealers and, if possible, had been drinking even more coffee in honor of its return.

The sat in their customary seats and sipped their coffee in silence, Kurt's feet resting next to Sam's knees. The blond pushed up the cuff of Kurt's jeans and curled a hand around his delicate ankle and rubbed softly.

Kurt sighed in contentment and smiled. He nudged the other boy's knee. "So, I have a question for you?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Oh?"

The fair boy nodded. "My dad is feeling a lot better," he said with a smile. "And he wants to have a barbeque. I'm sure it's going to be nothing like the barbeque _you_ are used to, since it's not Southern and all heart-friendly, but would you like to come?"

"Of course I would," Sam said. "I'm glad your dad is feeling better."

Kurt's smile was wide and relieved. "Me too. I was really worried for a while," he confessed.

Sam tightened his grip on the slim boy's ankle and looked at him reassuringly. "He's fine."

Kurt nodded and smiled but it looked like he was still holding something back. "Is everything alright?" Sam asked.

Kurt heaved a sigh and moved his shoulders up and down indecisively. "Just… something I'm thinking about."

"Is it anything I can help with?"

The pale boy bit his lip before shifting in his chair. "Not really. I just—you know that bakery near Star Fruit?" he asked.

The taller boy narrowed his eyes in thought before nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, that place with the really good croissants."

"Well, I went to visit my aunt the other day and saw that they were hiring," he explained. "And I've just been…debating with myself with whether or not I should apply."

Sam was surprised by this shy, uncertain Kurt. "Totally," Sam said firmly. "You're amazing; there's no way you wouldn't get hired."

The slim boy bit his lip, still not looking convinced. "I dunno. I mean, I have glee…"

"Only three days a week," Sam supplied hopefully. Kurt smacked his lips together speculatively so the tall boy plowed on. "Did you get an application?"

Kurt nodded reluctantly and dug around in his satchel, producing a few stapled sheets. He handed it over to Sam and the blond was pleased to note that it had already been filled out in Kurt's careful script. He waved the papers around.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked incredulously.

The other boy shrugged, not having an answer. "I'm nervous…"

"About what?"

"Not getting hired, making an idiot of myself, completely messing up on my baking test—"

"Baking test?" Sam questioned.

Kurt folded the leg not being held by Sam underneath him. "Yeah. They want to see what I can do, you know? I have to make some of my own stuff and then they do this, like, test. Like on _Chopped_ , where they put all those ingredients in the basket and you have to make something."

Sam sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "Just try," he encouraged.

Kurt nodded reluctantly and smiled, glad to have reached a decision. "But don't tell anyone," he pleaded. "I don't want anyone to know if I don't get it."

"Of course not," Sam assured. "Don't worry, baby. You're amazing."

"Thanks," he replied, blushing.

Sam crossed his legs and tossed his hair back out of his face. "So, tell me more about this barbeque."

* * *

The steam in his bathroom covered the mirror in a thick fog and Kurt sighed as it obscured his vision. He wiped a hand over the reflective glass and smiled at his reflection. He was finally hickey free and loving it.

His dad was totally getting suspicious of his constant wearing of scarves and it was going to be a relief to not have to lie about a "fashion experiment" or whatever.

The hickey Sam had given him in the hotel had nearly faded about a week ago, but then they made out in his car at the grove and, apparently, vampirism is contagious and he picked it up from Puck because the boy can't stay away from his neck.

 _Vampirism_ is _contagious_ he thought idly and he toweled his hair. He rolled his eyes. He'd been spending too much time with Finn and his horror movies.

Since his father's heart attack the living room had become man central and there was a constant barrage of sports, explosions, and horror blaring from the Bose stereo system his father had installed.

He hung up his towel and pulled on a loose pair of boxers and a _new_ shirt he'd stolen from Sam, this one with an old school Nintendo controller on the front, and made his way to his desk.

He looked at the clock and noticed he still had an hour or so until his Skype date with Sam but signed on anyway, hoping to catch Jesse St. Elusive. It had been over a week since they'd spoken at all and he was _not_ pleased. No one ignored Kurt Hummel; _he_ did the ignoring.

It just didn't work very well if the person you were ignoring wasn't trying to talk to you in the first place.

He was in luck. Jesse was not only on Skype, he was available to chat. Putting on his best scowl he called the other boy and waited for him to answer. His smirking face appeared on the screen, his smug expression disappearing when he saw Kurt's ire.

" _Uh, hey Kurt,"_ he said hesitantly.

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed, putting his hand to his heart in mock surprise. "So you _are_ alive. I was beginning to wonder, you know, since it's been over a week since I heard from you," he finished archly.

" _Uh, I've been busy?"_ he offered, knowing that it wasn't a good enough answer.

Kurt pursed his lips in annoyance. "Busy?" he asked in disbelief. "No; Busy is a day or two and then you can send me a text that says 'Hey, Kurt! Saw you tried to call but I'm super busy because of xyz. Talk to you soon!' and then I leave you alone. What the hell, St. James?"

Jesse sucked in a hissing breath and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. _"I've been…talking to Rachel."_

The pale boy felt his eye twitch. He was not going to be second to Rachel again. Tender feelings aside, he wouldn't be ignored for a girl. _Again_. " _Oh,"_ he said menacingly."So _that's_ how it is."

Jesse's face lit up with tension and alarm. _"No!"_ he panicked. _"I just—I can't multitask!"_

"Well you better learn!" Kurt demanded.

" _I will!"_ he assured. _"But, um, I have a surprise?"_ he offered.

Kurt arched an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of surprise?"

" _This Monday is some kind of working holiday for the professors so the students have off. I'm coming back to Lima for a long weekend."_

"And were you planning on telling me anytime soon? Or would you still not be talking to me if I hadn't caught you online?"

" _Um…"_

Kurt's pursed his lips. "That's what I thought."

Jesse's face was riddled with tension and worry and Kurt sighed in exasperation, all his ire melting out of him and being replaced with pity. The look on his face made him feel like he kicked a puppy. "I'm not mad," he said, even though he was. "Just… can you maybe try a little harder not to forget me?"

If anything, the usually cocky boy's face fell even further. _"Sorry!"_ he said, grimacing.

Kurt forced a smile on his face and gradually felt the anger fade to a more manageable level. It was just too much effort to be mad. He chuckled to himself; since he began dating Sam, he was much more easygoing.

Before he could say anything more, Jesse's phone rang incessantly in the background. He frowned in confusion and looked at the caller ID before glancing and Kurt in regret and apprehension. _Rachel._

Kurt rolled his eyes and put and to his forehead in exasperation. "Go, talk to Rachel, but I expect to see you sometime this weekend, Jesse St. James."

The other boy nodded enthusiastically and waved before disconnecting the call. He glared at the blank screen for a moment before flicking off the power strip without bothering to shut off the computer properly.

He trudged over to his bed and flopped on it despondently. He reached under his bed and groped for his laptop and rolled onto his back, propping the computer up on his bent knees. He sighed in annoyance and got up from his bed to walk upstairs and throw the lock on his door.

He'd like to mope in peace, thank you very much.

He slid back into bed and glanced at the screen of his computer. Sam was calling him on Skype, a bit early, but Kurt was glad for it. He was in a bad mood, regardless of the fact that he wasn't really mad a Jesse anymore.

He answered the call and laid down, curling up on his pillow with his laptop resting on the bed. "Hey," he said softly.

" _Hey,"_ Sam replied, all smiles. His cheerful look faded when he noticed Kurt's melancholy mood. _"What's wrong, baby?"_

He rolled his eyes and sighed despondently. "Just Jesse," he replied, not wanting to get into it. "He's just… been incommunicado for the past week because he's too busy trying to woo our Ms. Berry."

The blond boy frowned sympathetically. _"I'm sorry, sweetheart."_

Kurt shrugged. "It's okay. I'd much rather talk about something else."

" _Like?"_

Kurt huffed out a stuttering breath, choking on a laugh. "I don't know. I was hoping that you'd come up with something."

" _Umm…"_ Sam trailed off, trying to come up with something. Suddenly his smile went wide and goofy. _"You look good when your hair is wet."_

Kurt felt his cheeks flush. "Shush," he commanded gently. Unthinking, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers pushing through the silky, wet strands.

" _Yeah,"_ Sam said. _"Really good."_

The fair boy closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. "I miss you," he said, which was ridiculous. Honestly, he'd just seen the other boy less than three hours ago. His eyes fluttered open just in time to see Sam's face soften beautifully.

" _I miss you too,"_ he breathed.

Suddenly it looks like Kurt is experiencing an earthquake because Eleanor decided to jump on the bed and knock the thing that was keeping her human's attention away from her off the bed. The screen is filled with violent shaking and cat fur and Kurt's alarmed face and Eleanor peering into the webcam peevishly.

Sam is unable to contain his laughter. _"Is everything all right?"_ he asked haltingly.

Kurt's harassed face appeared in front on the camera, Eleanor hopping up onto the computer desk behind him and contentedly licking her paws. "Fine," he says breathlessly, fanning his face. "But now I'm all hot because I had to chase her and I panicked when I thought my laptop was done for."

" _Feel free to take your clothes off,"_ he says magnanimously, leering at him in exaggeration. _"To cool off, you know."_

Kurt scoffed initially but then thought about it. "Yeah?" he asked, toying with the hem of his shirt. His door was locked, after all.

Like he said, it had been a while since they'd had the chance to be alone and, well, he _was_ a teenager. He felt a little uncertain about the whole web camera aspect and he didn't even want to think about the whole "cyber" aspect.

On the other side of the screen Sam straightened in his seat and his eyes darkened with lust. _"Uh-huh,"_ he whispered.

Kurt went to pull off the flimsy garment but stopped at Sam's frantic _"Wait!"_ He pulled his hand away from his shirt like he'd been burned and looked at the screen anxiously, worried he'd maybe moved too fast and Sam had changed his mind or really was only kidding.

The tanned boy disappeared and Kurt's stomach bunched up in knots and he worried his lower lip. Sam reappeared and the screen spun, making him feeling motion sick until the blond settled on his bed, laptop resting on the mattress near his head like Kurt and missing his shirt.

" _Okay,"_ Sam said, enthused. _"Needed to lock my door."_

The knots went away but butterflies grew in their place. Were they really going to do this? As he pulled his shirt over his head he thought _Yeah, I guess we are_.

He lay back down on the bed and glanced at his image in the bottom right corner of the screen. Sam would be able to see to his hips, at least for now. When things got a bit more heated there was sure to be some more in view, but Kurt couldn't think about that right now.

He bit his lip and looked at the flaxen haired boy on his screen and felt a flush begin on his cheeks and spread downward to his chest. He was tanned and toned and perfect and Kurt once again had to wonder how he got so lucky to nab someone like him in this small minded town.

He took a deep breath and shimmied out of his shorts, shifting restlessly once they were off in search of a comfortable, and hopefully alluring, position. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and stared at the screen hopelessly, not knowing what to do next.

Sam, apparently not suffering from the same insecurity (or, at the very least, more adept at hiding it), reached above his head and fumbled about before bringing his hand back into frame, a small bottle of lube clutched in his fist.

 _Oh_ , Kurt thought in surprise, trying to keep it from showing on his face. _I guess I could just do that._

He reached for his own nightstand and pulled out his own lube, placing it on the bed next to him. He and Sam stared at each other for a moment before breaking into giggles. Kurt pressed his face into the pillow, peeking at the blond with one amused eye.

" _So,"_ Sam began. _"I was much smoother in my head. You know, in the four seconds before I said it."_

Kurt laughed. "I know, you'd think that this would be so easy."

Sam nodded. _"I guess it is, in theory. But, you know, there's the whole awkward factor."_

"Right," Kurt agreed, relieved that it wasn't just him. He wiggled against the sheets, the fabric cool against his naked skin.

They sat in silence until Sam shifted and looked at him adoringly. _"I love how pale you are_ ," he said quietly. _"It makes me think about cream."_

Right now Kurt was pretty sure he looked more like _strawberries_ and cream since he was blushing so furiously. The fair boy simply smiles and idly lets his fingertips dance around his navel.

He can feel himself beginning to stiffen and feels a pleasantly anxious throb when he realizes his erection will be visible on camera. He resists the urge to shift down and breathes out shakily.

Sensing his unease, Sam speaks up. _"We don't have to do this,"_ he says reassuringly. _"I wasn't serious when I suggested you take off your shirt, so if you want to stop…"_

Kurt shakes his head. "No, I'm alright," he assures.

" _Do you—do you want me to start?"_ Sam asked.

Kurt nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Sam shifted onto his back and Kurt could see him from head to knee. He bit his lip and grabbed the tube next to his stomach and squirted a liberal amount onto his hand and rubbed his fingers together.

His cock lay on his stomach and Kurt shivered at the sight. He was thick, but not hard, though it appeared that he wouldn't stay that way for long. The tanned boy encircled his length, stroking up the length slowly.

He bit his lips and closed his eyes for a moment, letting Kurt looking his fill without feeling like a leering idiot. He watched as Sam tossed the hand not on his length over his fair head, bicep flexing. He rubbed his thumb underneath the sensitive head and glanced back and the camera, eyes darkened with lust.

Kurt realized it was his turn and he snatched up the tiny bottle and squeezed a little of the cool gel onto his fingers. He stayed on his side and wrapped his slick hand around the base of his cock before stroking upward, the flushed pink head of his erection peeking out from his clenched fist.

He made a hushed mewl and nuzzled his face into the pillow as he stroked up and down slowly. He preferred a lighter, slower touch than Sam, preferring to draw out his pleasure. "Sam," he whispered.

The other boy answered with a low grunt, his fist tightening around the engorged shaft as he watched Kurt rapturously. _"You look so good,"_ he breathed. _"You're so pretty, all over."_

The fair teen whimpered and his toes curled, legs shifting restlessly. _"I wish I was there,"_ he continued, making Kurt's heart pound unevenly, breath catching in his chest. _"I wanna touch you so bad."_

Kurt wanted Sam to touch him so bad, too. He felt hi cock throb in response to thinking about the other boy's big, callused hands on his body. He felt his skin prickle in response, goosebumps forming over his sensitive flesh.

He let out a strangled moan and his face scrunched up adorably. _"What?"_ Sam asked eagerly. Kurt took a deep breath and steeled himself. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ he thought nervously.

"I got goosebumps," he began. "Um, thinking about you. About your hands, and um, how you have calluses on your fingers and a little on your palm, and how they feel when you touch me."

" _Baby,"_ Sam sighed. _"Where would you want me to touch you?"_

Kurt shivered just thinking about it. _Everywhere,_ he thought instantly. _Everywhere_.

Instead, he continued to stroke himself slowly, using his other hand to play around his navel, making the ticklish muscles jump and twitch. "Here," he breathed, feeling tendrils of arousal coil in his balls and grip him mercilessly. "Right here."

Sam nodded, mentally taking note to pay close attention the pale skin of his belly the next time they were together. He wanted to nip at the thin flesh there, mark it with hickeys and faint teeth marks and rub his morning beard over it and make it red so Kurt would feel it for hours.

The fair boy cooed, as if responding to his lurid thoughts. He bit his lip and tentatively reached for the lube once more, discarded near his head. He stopped pulling on his velvet flesh to flick open the cap, pouring a ludicrous amount on his already slick hand.

He rubbed them together and Sam's eyes widened as the hand that was formerly stroking the flawless, silken stalk of Kurt's manhood slip further down, pausing to tease at his balls before delving even further into the crease of his perfect backside.

The slim boy rubbed at his entrance and whined softly, Sam staining his ears to hear the desperate sound torn form Kurt's throat.

" _Oh my god,"_ he panted, strokes growing faster.

Kurt's eyes were glues to the screen as he gently pressed one slim finger inside, trying to imagine that it was Sam stretching him open. "Sam," he keened quietly.

He pressed in deeply, wanting to feel the slight burn of being stretched a bit too soon, a bit too fast, to stave off the need to come. He jammed his eyes shut, not being able to watch the sight of Sam's tanned skin and thick cock on display for him without finishing before he had really started.

He imagined that it was Sam touching him, Sam pressing his thick, strong fingers inside him and driving him wild. He pulled back and returned with two, fingers clenching almost-painful around the base of his erection.

He had stopped stroking himself and now griped the base firmly in an attempt to stave off his impending release. He rocked his hips back into his fingers, frantically searching for that spot inside him that made him see stars, the spot that was always so difficult to reach on his own.

His fingers brushed over his prostate and he squeaked, fucking squeaked, spreading his knees wider. Earlier modestly forgotten, Kurt rolled onto his front, knees bent and cheek pressed to the mattress, the sheets sticking to his clammy skin.

Sam stared at Kurt's ass, perfect and round and high, and at the fingers disappearing between those twin globes. The fair boy was emitting constant stream of whimpers, hips moving in time to the thrusting of his fingers.

His mouth fell open as he managed to reach his prostate, tapping against it frantically. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt a tidal wave of ecstasy begin to swell before crashing over him and drowning him in its intensity.

He came without a sound, barely able to stutter out a breath. He felt light headed from the strength of his relief but he forced himself to open his eyes and look at Sam. His fist flew of his heated length, muscles tense, until suddenly the boy went lax and Kurt watched as he released onto his toned stomach.

They both panted harshly, their sounds of their labored breathing filling their air. Kurt lazily looked down at his rumpled, ruined comforter and cracked a smile.

" _What?"_ Sam asked tiredly.

Kurt shook his head, feeling the soft cotton caressing his fevered cheek. "It's just, normally I'd be so mad I ruined my comforter," he started. "But I'm too relaxed to care."

Sam chuckled. _"I love you."_

Kurt flopped onto his side and looked at the other boy fondly. "Love you too," he whispered. "But I'm about two seconds from passing out."

The blond shook his head, smiling sweetly. _"Goodnight, sweetheart."_

* * *

Kurt sighed as he spilled _more_ barbecue sauce on his apron. It was Friday night and he was in the kitchen preparing for tomorrow's barbeque. He'd made countless heart-healthy barbecue sauces over the weekend and was no making giant batches of the two favorites to marinate the food for tomorrow.

This week was an away game so Finn and Sam were about three hours away, playing against a team that proudly called themselves the Jackrabbits. _How threatening,_ Kurt thought sardonically, squeezing the air out of a ziplock bag.

He had recently come home from dinner with Jesse who, true to his word, had come for a visit. They'd gone to this little Italian restaurant close to the St. James' household and Kurt had opted for a Mediterranean salad instead of the carb loaded baked pasta dish Jesse had ordered.

His anger at being ignored for a week was forgotten in light of spending time with someone that was rapidly becoming his best friend. He'd always have a special place for Mercedes, and even Rachel, but Jesse just understood him in a way they couldn't.

They had parted reluctantly, both knowing it was unlikely that they were going to be able to see each other again before he left, but not before enacting promise form the other boy for a phone call at least once a week.

Even though he had just eaten his mouth was watering in anticipation of their barbecue massaged the meat quickly before tossing it onto the top shelf. He surveyed his work, looking at the chicken skewers, ribs, and steak happily. He'd grabbed some portabella mushrooms for himself instead of a burger or hotdog and a few other veggie items.

So help him Gaga, his father was going to eat some of these damn vegetables. Man _should_ not live on red meat alone. He shut the door and walked over to the sink to wash his hands, glancing at what was left on the counter.

His father had gone to sleep early, wanting to be well rested for tomorrow, and Carole with him. He relished in the quiet of the house and the freedom to linger in the kitchen without worrying about incessant offers of help quests for snacks.

He grabbed the wings and tossed them a giant tupperware, the spicy aroma making his eyes water. He'd given in a used regular butter in the wing sauce since he was forced to admit that there were some things that couldn't be made healthy and have taste the same.

He shook the container to spread the orange sauce over the chicken wings and drumsticks and placed it in the fridge, sighing contentedly. "All done," he said aloud.

He began gather up his various bowls and spoons and filled the dishwasher, so ready for a shower. The kitchen was cleaned relatively quickly and he flitted downstairs shedding his clothes as he went. He teasingly draped his shirt of Eleanor's tiny body and laughed as she struggled to get free, eventually popping her head out of his sleeve.

He shook his head and watched he dart under his bed, no doubt to scratch something he loved in revenge. Even Sam hadn't been exempt from that fate. The last time he had been over (the door to his room remaining depressingly open) she bit him in the foot after Kurt had cuddled her against her will.

He looked at his steam proof clock in the bathroom and noticed it was nearly nine o'clock. The game should be over now since it had started at six in deference to the distance McKinley had to travel. As if on cue his phone beeped with a message from Sam.

_We won!_

Kurt smiled and wiggled happily. _Yay!_ he replied. _Are you guys on your way back?_

He postponed getting in the shower to wait for Sam's response by tidying his bathroom up. His phone pinged once more and he scooped it up quickly.

_Yea, I'm waiting on the bus now. Thinking about you…_

Kurt felt himself flush even as his mouth drew up into a wicked smirk. _I'm about to get in the shower. I guess I'll think about you too ;)_

He slipped of his underwear and tossed his head back sassily. His phone beeped and he grinned as he opened the message.

 _You're mean_ _:(_

Kurt laughed to himself before responding.

_I try._

* * *

Saturday came and Kurt woke to the sound of swearing. Judging from the sounds, his father was somewhere in the living room and decidedly not happy.

He forced himself out of the warm cocoon of blankets and stood, stretching languidly. "Pss pss pss," he called, walking over to Ellie's food bowl. "C'mon, breakfast."

She bounded forward and skidded across the tiled floor, scrabbling for purchase. Luckily, she came to a stop right before her bowl. She looked up at him with an _I meant to do that_ face and meowed for her breakfast.

He fed her and then threw on a pair of navy blue shorts that came to his mid thigh and a sky blue shirt with artistic yellows streaks across the fabric á la Jackson Pollock. He slipped on a pair of grey sandals and tromped upstairs.

"Daddy?" he called.

His father's ball cap covered head peeked round the corner, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, Bambi. I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," he began. "What's wrong?"

"Tripped over the damn coffee table and then knocked over those magazine things you like."

Kurt shook his head in amusement and pointed outside. "Why don't you go start up the grill and I'll clean this up? Did you already eat?"

He nodded. "Oatmeal."

Kurt beamed at his response and bent to gather his trash mags. He was addicted to those shameless gossip rags and had weekly subscriptions to quite a few. He stacked them neatly and then ventured forth in search of coffee.

He found Carole in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and reading her latest romance novel. The cover had a woman with long, flowing red hair and her cup overfloweth, bodice bursting at the seams from her ample bosom. She was clinging to a man wearing kilt and little else, brandishing a sword in what Kurt could only assume was a metaphor for how a wielded a different kind of sword.

 _Phallic images,_ he thought in amusement.

"Morning, Carole."

"Morning, sweetheart," she replied, eyes glued to the page, clearly at a good part.

He chuckled under his breath and poured himself a cup of coffee and patting Carole on the shoulder as he went to watch his father wrestle with the grill.

He walked outside and sat at the table, sipping his coffee blissfully. Sure enough, his father was grumbling and cursing at a bag of charcoal, only managing to pour a third of it into the grill while the rest scattered all over the floor.

"Do you want help?" he asked.

"No," Burt replied firmly. "I got it."

He smiled behind his cup. Every time they'd had a barbecue, as far back as he can remember, his father had a similar struggle. Next, he'd attempt to light the charcoal, refusing to use lighter fluid, and struggle with it for the better part to thirty minutes.

He turned his face up toward the morning breeze and inhaled slowly. It was wonderfully cool this morning and he was looking forward to spending the day outside with some of his favorite people in the world. Good food and good company never failed to brighten his day.

His phone beeped from inside his pocket, bringing him out of his reverie. He struggled to pull it out of his tight shorts and grunted in triumph.

_Hey baby! Can't wait to see you._

_Me too!_ Kurt replied. _Come over whenever you're ready._

He took another swig of his coffee and watched as his father finally managed to get the rest of the charcoal inside the grills; one for the really saucy stuff and the other for Kurt's veggies and such.

Burt wiped the sweat from his brow and went in search of matches, leaving Kurt alone. His phone rang once more and he scooped it up eagerly.

_Awesome, I will! bringing some stuff. Be there n a few_

Kurt frowned at his empty cup before replying. _Aww, you didn't have to. Thanks! :)_

The fair teen stretched his legs out and slouched in his chair, lazily watching his father struggle to light the coals with old newspaper and matches. He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew Carole was calling for him, telling him Sam was at the door.

He stood quickly and stumbled inside, heading for the door. As he passed the kitchen he could see a sleepy Finn sitting at the table, hands clenched around a glass of orange juice.

He hurried the last few steps and wrenched the door open, revealing a beaming Sam behind it. His arms were laden with barbecue goodies and Kurt rushed to help ease his burden. Because, you know, Sam couldn't bench press three of him and clearly needed his help.

"Hi, baby," Sam said quietly, mindful that they weren't alone.

Kurt grinned. "Hi."

He led Sam into the kitchen and opened the fridge, moving things around to accommodate the new additions to their afternoon feast.

Arms now free, he turned to hug the blond boy, not caring that Finn was staring at them only a few feet away. Happily, Finn didn't seem fazed by their gesture of affection and Kurt's heart swelled.

Things had been going so well lately he couldn't help but think it was only a matter of time before things went terribly wrong. Deciding not to worry about it until he had to, Kurt tightened his arms around the taller boy before pulling back.

"Thanks," he said. "What all did you bring? It looks like a lot."

Sam shrugged. "Just some potato salad and pasta salad and a little coleslaw. I remember you saying you couldn't make it come out right and it's kind of a staple where I'm from. My mom was overjoyed when I asked her to help me this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

The shorter teen winked. "Anytime. Now, come outside. It's so nice out."

Sam allowed himself to be lead out onto the patio and inhaled the smell of burning charcoal. He loved the smell of the grill and he was glad his father loved it just as much. They probably grilled three times a week, and that was okay with him.

He saw Kurt's father poking at the coals and waved a hand in acknowledgement. "Hi, Mr. Hummel."

"Hey, Sam. How's it going?"

"Very well, sir, thanks."

"Sam brought some potato salad and stuff," Kurt interjected, knowing what would win his father over.

Predictably, his father licked his bottom lip in appreciation. "Thanks, kid. That'll go great."

He smiled. "You're welcome. It's kind of one of the only things I can make without catastrophe."

Burt nodded in understanding. "There's a reason Kurt handled most of the cooking since his mother died."

Kurt nodded gravely. At Sam's puzzled look, he elaborated. "Raw chicken," he said simply. "Completely raw inside."

"And he will never let me forget it," Burt muttered.

Kurt shook his head. "Nope."

Sam laughed and looked around the backyard. The last time he was there it was when he was meeting Kurt's father as his boyfriend for the first time and he had been too stressed to really take anything in.

Their small deck and table was surrounded by a sizeable yard with a hammock strung up between two trees. There was a shed that was currently open filled with various cooking utensil and a riding lawnmower. All in all, it was your average backyard.

One side of the garden, however, looked out of place. It looked slightly unkempt but after a mom Sam could tell that it wasn't unkempt, it was preserved. There were two garden rose bushes with a stone bench between them. The area was shaded by a massive tree and the closer he looked, he realized there was writing on the bench.

He followed Kurt as he wandered towards his father, berating him for poking at the coals when they needed to sit, and saw that it was a memorial of sorts. To the side of the bench, almost covered by one of the bushes, was a piece of cement with three sets of handprints.

On the bench was the inscription _"Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My mother."_

 _I need to stop looking at this_ Sam thought frantically. _I'm going to cry._

He cleared his throat and looked at Kurt who was staring at his father in fond exasperation. He sighed and looked to Sam. "Come help me bring the stuff out to my dad since he is determined to do this his way or not at all."

Sam chuckled and followed Kurt into the house, waving at Carole as he passed. She squeezed his shoulder as he walked by and tried to force Finn outside, hoping the sun would help to wake him up.

Kurt bustled into the kitchen and grabbed the two largest platters they had and handed one to Sam, piling on bags of meat, confident that the other boy wouldn't drop it. "Go bring those out to my dad," he bid, and turned to preheat the oven for the wings.

Sam disappeared out the doorway and Kurt grabbed a baking sheet and covered it with foil before jamming as many wings on the tray as he could. His fingers were a bright oranges and, if possible, it burned his eyes even more than it had last night.

"Whoo," Sam said as he walked back inside, empty-handed. "That's strong."

Kurt nodded, trying to suppress the tickle in his throat. "Hope you like spicy food," he choked.

Sam nodded but was relieved when Kurt covered the remaining wings and placed the ones on the tray in the oven to bake. He washed his hands and handed the blond the second tray with a grin on his face.

"I see how it is, only using me for my muscle," Sam lamented dramatically.

Kurt nodded easily as he piled on the veggies. "At least you realize this now."

He shooed Sam out wandered into the garage, hoisting up the sizeable cooler filled with soda and beer and trying to balance it on his hip while walking at the same time. he wasn't very successful, only having moved three steps before he was forced to put down the plastic container before he accidentally spilled it all over the living room.

"What are you _doing_?" Sam asked in amusement, coming in the sliding glass door.

"I thought I could move it by myself," he explained. "But I didn't want to drag it across the floor."

Sam rolled his eyes and hefted the thing onto his shoulder, gesturing for the other boy to precede him out the door. He set the cooler down where Kurt indicated and rolled his shoulders. Kurt delved into the icy depths of the cooler and handed him a Dr. Pepper as Mr. Hummel drew him into a debate over football plays.

Kurt smiled and sat in the chair he'd been occupying earlier. Finn, Sam, and his father were talking animatedly while Carole was torn between reading her novel and watching the intense display of testosterone happening in front of their eyes.

He smiled and cracked open his soda. No one was fighting, no one was standing in a corner awkwardly, and there was definitely _no_ sign of his father asking Sam for an update on his intentions, thank goodness, and he was about to eat some truly great food.

All was right in the world.

Kurt patted his over-full stomach and groaned. That third plate had really been a bad (but delicious) idea and now he was never going to eat again.

Until Carole brought out dessert later.

He hadn't been allowed to take part in the proceedings but he was fairly certain she'd made fruit salad and ambrosia. Unbelievably, he felt his mouth begin to water and narrowed his eyes in disbelief. He was such a little pig today!

His father stretched and patted his stomach in a gesture similar to Kurt's. It wasn't hard to see where the pale boy had picked up such a gesture from. "Well boys, I think I am going to take a quick nap before we have any dessert."

Kurt giggled and let his father kiss him on the head as he shuffled inside. He looked around the table and saw the other sleepy faces staring back at him. Finn was already half asleep in his chair and Caroel turned to usher him inside.

"I think we'll do the same," she said pointedly, nodding at her lanky son.

He and Sam watched them all disappear in side, Carole pausing in the doorway and gesturing towards the handle of the sliding glass door, asking if they were going to follow them in.

Kurt shook his head, taking Sam's hand under the table and squeezing lightly. It's nice outside; maybe we'll go for a walk or something. If I lie down I am just going to slip into a food coma."

Carole tittered appropriately and nudged Finn the rest of the way in the door. "Dessert won't be for a while, so take your time."

He nodded and his soon-to-be-stepmother shut the door behind her, pulling the curtain over the glass to keep put the afternoon sun.

Left alone, Kurt immediately cozied up to the other teen. He scooted his chair over and laid his head on Sam's broad shoulder, sighing at the warmth form his skin. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, glad to have a moment alone with Sam, however brief (or long) it may turn out to be.

"Hey," Sam said lowly. "Are you tired?"

Kurt nodded. "But I was serious about not wanting to lie down. I can't remember the last time ate this much. Probably because my sleep coma erased my memory."

The taller boy chuckled and jostled his shoulder to dislodge the sleepy boy. Kurt groaned pitifully but righted himself, looking at Sam in betrayal.

"I thought we were going for a walk?"

Kurt pouted. "I just said that to get rid of Carole."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, c'mon. We're going for a walk. You'll feel better afterwards, promise."

"How are you not dying?" Kurt questioned archly.

The other boy glanced at his out of the side of his eyes as he got up, his look saying _do you really want me to answer that?_

"Well?" Kurt needled, knowing Sam had something to say.

Sam pushed his chair and took Kurt's hand, leading him around the house. "Because I don't eat like a bird every day."

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. "I do not eat like a bird."

"Mhmm," Sam hummed, unconvinced. "Your idea of breakfast is a cup of coffee. For lunch you eat like, radishes—"

"More than just _radishes_ ," Kurt grumbled.

"Okay, like radishes and celery and a carrot and maybe a handful of grapes. And what did you have for dinner? A salad?"

Kurt's flush gave him away. "See," Sam said. "You eat like a bird."

"Actually, I believe I eat more like a rabbit."

Sam found himself laughing even though he didn't want to. He didn't want to be that boyfriend that harped on their significant other about food (usually for the opposite reason), but he also didn't want Kurt to become the Amazing Vanishing Boy; he was already so thin.

Instead, he just nodded reluctantly and remained silent. They rounded the house and Sam let go of Kurt's hand, knowing how nervous Kurt got when they were affectionate in public, and ambled over the shaded sidewalk.

Surprisingly, Kurt laced their fingers back together. "Sorry for being so touchy," he murmured.

Sam squeezed his hand tight and tugged lightly, leading him down the sidewalk."I'm sorry for bugging you about it."

There was a pause before Kurt finally asked "Do you think I'm too skinny?"

Sam inhaled deeply, buy time. Eventually he replied, looking at the other boy uncertainly. "This…feels like a trap."

Kurt didn't bother to hide his laughter. "This is not a trap and it's not a trick question. If you say that you don't think I'm too skinny I'm not going to put words into your mouth and claim you think I look fat. Just… do you think I'm too skinny?"

Sam bit his lip, trying to formulate a response. Regardless of Kurt's assurances, he knew if he answered the wrong way it would hurt his feelings. "I think…" he began. "That you are…thin."

"Thin?" Kurt repeated.

The blond nodded resolutely. "Yes. And that I wouldn't be upset if you were…less thin. But I don't want you to be more thin because…then I might break you."

Kurt laughed and kissed his cloth covered shoulder. "So, you're saying that you'll still love me if I gain ten pounds."

Sam sighed, knowing he wasn't going to accurately communicate his feelings on the matter without saying _You're perfect and I love you but I'd like to feel like I'm not going to injure you with my dick if/when he have enthusiastic sex so, yeah, eat a brownie_.

And Sam had no intention of saying that. Ever.

"Of course I would," he finally said.

They reached the end of Kurt's street and turned back, slowly making their way back to the Hummel's house. There was a slight breeze that felt wonderful on his skin and humidity was nonexistent, making him want to spend as much time as possible outdoors. This really was the perfect weather for a barbecue.

"I think I am going to go for a hike tomorrow," Sam decided.. "It's supposed to be really nice again and I want to take advantage of that. There's a trail that's by the grove. Do you want to come? We could have a picnic after."

Kurt bit his lip. "Could this be a slow hike?" he asked. "Um, I'm not really good at it. Jesse took me once and I pretty much wanted to die by the time we got to the top and, no lie, I made him carry me down."

Sam laughed, totally about to imagine Kurt dramatically declaring he couldn't go one before demanding to be carried down like some sort of royalty. "I can see that," he said honestly.

Kurt laughed. "I'm pretty sure you'd have an easier time of it than Jesse. He dropped me halfway, and I still can't decide if it was on purpose or not."

He chuckled and nodded. "I promise it can be slow. And if you need me to carry you back down, I won't drop you."

"Then yes, I'd love to," he responded, just as they reached the Hummel's driveway. Sam stopped him before they could go around the back yard, pulling him towards the Camaro.

"I have a something for you," he said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

Kurt's eyes widened in delight and intrigue. "You do?"

Sam gave a little shrug. "Well, kinda more for Eleanor," he admitted. "But I think you'll like it."

He reached over into the passenger seat and grabbed something that was small enough to be concealed in his hand. He grabbed Kurt's wrist and placed the mysterious item in his upturned palm.

He closed his fingers around the soft, plush toy and gave it a little shake, hearing a crinkling, rattling sound come from inside. He unfurled his fingers and smiled when he realized he was holding a tiny, catnip hippo.

"Oh my gosh," he cooed. "You remembered! It's so cute!"

Sam grinned and blushed, chuckling in amusement. "Kinda hard to forget; not everyone's favorite animal is a hippo."

Kurt shook the toy happily. "Well, _I_ love it, and I'm sure she will." He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him towards the front door. "C'mon, I want to give it to her. She's so funny when she's had catnip."

* * *

It was eight in the morning and Kurt was already driving over to Sam's house, dressed in his hiking best. After they had amused themselves by watching Ellie loose her mind due to the catnip infused toy, the other boy had insisted he look through Kurt's wardrobe for appropriate hiking clothes.

Going through his closet resulted in Kurt trying on a multitude of outfits, and none of them hike worthy clothes. As they were combing through his things, Sam had found his stash of costumes and more outlandish fashions.

The other boy was enraptured, demanding he try them on to show him how they even _worked_. In deference to his father's rules, the door was ajar so Sam waiting in his room while Kurt changed in the closet.

He'd seen outfit after outfit, from a Lady Gaga inspired look to his Riff Raff costume. Finally, when Sam was out of things to parade around in, the tanned boy suggested something for him to wear.

They had finally settled on a pair of jeans that weren't painted on or made primarily of spandex. Kurt had fought initially, but when he heard that he could rip them on a rock or branch, he was much more open to wearing less fashionable jeans.

He'd donned a red _Hummel's_ shirt and a pair of sneakers he'd worn around the shop for tears. Sam promised that he wouldn't take them off the trail (this time) so he had no need for boots.

Even though he'd already picked a pair of super cute Burberry-esque boots on the internet last night in the hopes he fell in love with hiking and would have a need for them.

He pulled up to Sam's and already found the boy waiting for him outside, kneeling in the grass and playing with R2. The puppy was on his back and flailing around, desperate to gnaw on the hand that was mercilessly tickling his belly.

He got out and walked over to the two, face softening. "Hey there, R2," he cooed, kneeling next to Sam. He pressed a kiss to the other boy's temple. "Hey to you too."

Sam wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and play tackles him to the ground, reminiscent of the last time he'd been spread out on the Evans' lawn. The blond boy lays half on top of Kurt's body, chuckling as R2-D2 finally managed to right himself and climbed atop the fair boy's chest.

He giggled a ruffled his tiny, floppy ears. "You're so cute!" he enthused. He kissed his little head and relaxed into the grass. "So, ready to go?"

Sam nodded and pressed a smacking kiss to Kurt's pale neck. "Yup!" He sprung up and snatched R2. "Just lemme run him inside and we can go." He poked Kurt with his foot. "Get in the Camaro."

The other boy groaned dramatically and forced himself up, wandering over to the car. He slid inside and turned the keys in the ignition. He pulled the lever and reclined the seat, stretching out languorously.

He opened one eye when he heard Sam open the door, smiling lightly. The blond grinned fiendishly and reached over, tickling his unprotected stomach. Kurt shrieked and batted his hands away, swiftly righting his seat.

"Mean!" he declared.

Sam laughed, unapologetic. "Couldn't resist."

Kurt narrowed his eyes playfully and the two bickered the entire way to the trail. Sam rounded the car and pulled a backpack from the trunk. "Lunch," he explained when Kurt looked at him curiously.

The smaller boy looked at the trail apprehensively. "It's not that bad," Sam assured, taking his hand. "C'mon."

Getting to the top of the trail took them nearly two hours and Kurt had found himself contemplating throwing himself on a conveniently fallen log or boulder and refusing to go on numerous times. The only thing that kept him from doing so was Sam.

He was so happy and excited and chattering a million miles a minute that he didn't want to spoil the other boy's fun. But, _oh_ , did Sam owe him. Black Friday was coming soon and Kurt had every intention of dragging the blond along and making him his designated bad carrier.

They'd finally reached the end of the trail and Kurt collapsed against the rail. "I'm dying," he proclaimed dramatically. "I'll never walk again."

Sam chuckled and perched on the fence next to him. He rubbed his back and stuck out his bottom lip in a sympathy. "Aww, baby. Did I go to fast? You shoulda said something."

"I didn't think hiking would be so hard!" he whined.

The tanned teen pressed a kiss to Kurt's sweaty forehead before dragging him over to a large, flat rock. "Sit," he said. "Going down is always easier."

Kurt couldn't help himself and cracked up. "Speak for yourself."

Sam looked at him blankly for a moment before blushing furiously. "Oh, hush."

He sat across from the laughing boy, hiding his blush by digging through his backpack. He pulled out some plastic containers with fruit and cheese and laid them out of the cool stone. "Eat," he commanded lightly, blush finally fading. Kurt gave one last chuckle before popping a grape into his mouth.

Sandwiches followed, roast beef for him and turkey for Kurt. The teens ate voraciously, having worked up an appetite during the trek up there.

After Kurt had caught his breath and had a moment to rest, he had to admit that it really wasn't that bad. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "So I guess it wasn't _that_ bad."

Sam grinned. "I thought so," he said smugly. "But still, if I can convince you to go with me again, there's an easier trail. It's a bit farther away, but you might like it better, at least until you get used to hiking."

Kurt nodded. "That's probably a better idea," he admitted. "I'd like to be able to enjoy the scenery rather than just concentrate on my breathing and not falling over."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

The slender teen shrugged. "You looked so happy; I didn't want to spoil your fun."

Sam leaned forward and kissed Kurt quickly. "Thanks for hanging in there, then."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," he warned. "You're coming with me on Black Friday and a few other big sales. If can do so much more if I have someone to carry my bags."

Sam nodded. "That seems fair," he allowed. His eyes widened and he motioned at Kurt to get his attention. "I know you already humored me, but do you maybe want to go to the Renaissance Festival with me?"

"The Renaissance Festival?" he asked curiously. "I didn't know we had one."

"Well, the one I got to his kinda far away, about an hour. It's really big, but it's the best one in the area. It's next weekend."

"Sure," Kurt replied immediately. "You're not going to make me dress up, right?"

The taller boy laughed. "No," he assured. "Definitely not. Just be comfortable. And no sandals; you're feet will be black by the end of the day."

Kurt grimaced. "I'll make sure to wear my shop shoes."

"That's probably a good idea," Sam agreed, packing away the remnants of their lunch. He stood and hefted the bag back over his shoulder, holding his hand out to help Kurt up. "Ready?"

Kurt groaned and slumped dramatically over the stone, making his body dead weight. "I don't wanna."

Sam smirked wickedly and advanced on the fair boy, swinging him up over his shoulder and taking off down the path.

"SAM!" he shrieked. "You put me down right now!'

He felt the blond shake his head before his other hand come up to smack him soundly on the rear. "I don't think so."


	28. Renaissance Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Renaissance Festival time! I love the Ren Fest and I have been planning this date since, like, chapter three :) I hope you like it!
> 
> I kind of poke fun at those that dress up, but there's not hate in it at all. I was totally one of those people, though I've toned it down drastically the past few years. Keep in mind, most of this is coming from Kurt's POV, and he would _totally_ have something to say, mmkay?"
> 
> Also, Kurt's reaction to horses is pretty much my reaction to horses—I only wish I had someone like Sam to ride with me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything—nothing at all.
> 
> WARNINGS: ridiculous amounts of fluff, boys loving other boys, Ren Fest crack, etc.

Kurt was patting his hair down as he heard the doorbell ring at a quarter to nine in the morning. He smiled as Sam's punctuality and grabbed his wallet and cell phone before running upstairs.

They were getting an early start this Saturday because, as promised, Kurt Hummel was going to the Renaissance Festival.

No one else was awake in the Hummel household as Kurt crept up the steps. Finn was snoring as he passed the tall boy on the couch. Kurt paused and tossed the fallen blanket over the lanky boy's body before heading to the door, shaking his head fondly.

He opened the door and slipped out, grinning at the excited blond in front of him. "Morning!" he chimed, throwing his arms around Sam's shoulders.

"G'morning," he replied warmly, rubbing his hands down Kurt's back. "Ready to go? I brought breakfast."

Kurt pulled back and smiled, tilting his head up expectantly. The blond pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back to playfully nip at his nose. The fair teen giggled and pushed away. "Now I'm ready."

Sam trotted over to the Camaro and grabbed breakfast off the hood, having agreed to take Kurt's car to the Renaissance Fest. Kurt tossed his keys to the taller boy and climbed into the passenger seat, reaching over to take the drink carrier and bag that was emitting a tantalizingly sweet smell.

He took a sip of the coffee that had his name on it and peered in the bag before rolling his eyes. Since Sam had discovered his weakness for sticky buns and pretty much _every_ type of donut, he had been exploiting said knowledge shamelessly.

"Thanks," he said, grabbing one of the pastries by the wax paper. Sam nodded in response, backing out of his driveway carefully.

He devoured the first pastry before starting on the second, mentally berating himself but unable to help it. They were just so good! And they were going to be doing a ton of walking so it totally cancelled it out, right? Right.

He hummed happily and licked the sticky mess from his fingers, barely able to hold back his wicked grin as Sam watched him. "Eyes on the road," he commanded lightly.

"Sorry," he muttered, sounding gratifyingly distracted.

He allowed himself to smile now that Sam's attention was on the road, looking like that cat that got the canary. Maybe he'd eat this one a little slower, lick his fingers at the lights. It's not teasing if you intend to follow through.

He could feel Sam's gaze on him as they neared the end of town and prepared to take the highway. They rolled to a stop at a light and Kurt licked the icing from his thumb, turning towards the other boy slightly and winking.

"You're gonna drive me crazy," he said huskily.

Kurt chuckled viciously and reclined the seat. "Maybe, but for now I'll just settle for driving," he quipped. "The light is green."

The taller boy jumped when the car behind them honked and Kurt tried to smother a giggle. From Sam's sour look, he didn't succeed.

* * *

They pulled into the Renaissance Festival's parking lot before the majority of the throng arrived. The Lincoln was waved forward by a Highlander look-alike in a bright orange safety vest and Kurt was already struggling not to laugh.

"Be nice," Sam chided. "Try to _whisper_ your criticisms or like, save them all for later when we won't be beaten by someone with a plastic axe."

Kurt unbuckled his seat beat and sank down until he was almost kneeling in the floor well of his Navigator, convulsing in hysteria. He took a few steadying breaths as Sam pulled in to park and sat up properly.

"Okay, I'm ready," he declared. "Promise I won't embarrass you or incite someone dressed as a knight to attack us with his foam sword."

"You're so bad," Sam whispered, ushering him towards the entrance of the park.

On the way up they saw a little boy with strawberry hair dressed as King Arthur and Kurt felt his heart melt a little bit. "Tell the truth," he implored quietly. "Were you one of the little kids that dressed up?"

Sam colored lightly. "Define 'little'."

Kurt hissed in a breath in delight, skipping around until he was in front of the embarrassed boy. " _Oh_ , this is too _good_. How old?"

Sam blushed even further. He bit his lip, reluctant to answer.

"I promise I won't make fun!" he swore. "Really; tell me."

"Um, every time except this one," he admitted.

Kurt clutched his chest, completely charmed. "Aww! You are too cute! What were you?"

"Um, last time I dressed like Heath Ledger in _A Knight's Tale_."

Kurt arched an eyebrow in interest. "Really?" he asked, drawing out the word in intrigue. "Do you… still have that costume?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up, a speculative look on his face. "Uh-huh," he replied simply.

Kurt felt _himself_ flush and turned to walk next to Sam once again. "If you wanted to, we could have dressed up," he said softly, his voice slightly husky. "I'm sure I could have thrown something together."

"Maybe next year," he said, making Kurt's stomach jump happily. This was one of the first times either of them had mentioned something so long term and he was torn between squealing like a little girl and rying to play it cool. Cool won over in light of the public setting, though he was willing to be a squealing teenager wasn't going to be the most outlandish thing people saw today.

"Besides," he continued, drawing Kurt's attention to him again. "I think I need to approve of this outfit first. You know, give you tips, since I've been here so much."

"Is that so?" Kurt questioned.

Sam made an affirmative noise, handing their printed tickets to the barmaid looking girl near the gate. Kurt quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at the most impressive cleavage he had ever seen.

"There's probably going to be a lot of that," Sam warned, seeing Kurt's panic.

The fair boy giggled suddenly. "I never thought that _I_ would be worried about getting caught staring at a girl's chest."

Sam barked out a laugh, surprised by Kurt's comment. "Anyway," he transitioned desperately. "What do you want to do first?"

Kurt bit his lip and looked around curiously. There were tents and stalls as far as the eye could see, bright and eclectic and heralding a day filled with _shopping_. Sure, the venue was a little different than he was used to, but this was familiar territory.

"I don't even know where to start," he began. "Do you mind if we look around first?"

Sam shakes his head and leads Kurt down the first aisle of tents. Kurt noticed that someone the stuff wasn't really Renaissance or Medieval at all, but practical or crafty. He glanced in the stall of someone selling candles that melted into lotion and was impressed if confused how he was supposed to use it without burning the heck out of himself.

Kurt made mental notes of places he wanted to return to before the day was over (He didn't want Sam to have to carry bags all day, _duh_. Talk about rude…) and carried on.

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed as they came to a stage area. "C'mon! This guy is really good. He's here every year."

He pulled Kurt to a bench off the far right in the very back, his reason for seating them so far away becoming obvious as he twined their fingers together. "People here are pretty open," he whispered, squeezing tight on Kurt's hand. "If this is okay?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course."

Sam beamed and then redirected his attention to the stage to watch a gaudy, floundering magician and his witty assistant took the stage begin their act.

Kurt had to admit, the show was hilarious. It was all slapstick humor and bawdy jokes and he would be the first to confess that it had been a while since he'd laughed that hard. The rest of the fair goers filed out but they lingered, Kurt braving public outrage and resting his head on Sam's shoulder for a moment.

"What did you think?" Sam asked softly.

Kurt chuckled in remembrance and lifted his head, looking in Sam's warm hazel eyes. "I loved it. I was kinda surprised that it was so funny."

Sam nodded and took a deep breath before rubbing his hands on his jean-clad thighs. "Ready to look some more?"

The delicate teen nodded and stood, picking his way around the benches and bushed until they were back on the winding maze of stalls and shops. As they neared the games Sam suddenly groaned and spun in a despondent circle, clenching his eyes together.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked urgently, face full of concern.

"Wes and David."

Kurt looked at him in confusion before comprehending the problem. He looked around for the inseparable duo and spotted them gleefully beating each other with wooden swords. He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, looking at Sam in fond exasperation. "They aren't nearly as bad as you make them out to be."

"Oh _whatever_ ," he said sourly. "You just say that because they don't tell embarrassing stories about _you_."

Kurt stifled a bark of laughter, remember the last time they had run into Wes and David and they had cheerfully told him about Sam's _Avatar_ obsession and how he still refused to sleep with the closet door open because he was worried that there was the _remotest_ possibility of all the those horror movies being true and something could grab him in the middle of the night and countless other things while Sam struggled in the background, each of them taking turns holding him back while the other spilled his secrets.

"It's not that bad," he soothed. "And I think it's cute that you still have your baby blanket. Really; it's sweet and sensitive."

"Mhmm," he grated.

Kurt rolled his eyes and tugged on his arm. "Come on; let's go say hi and then we'll make some excuse about why we have to get going and that'll be that."

The tanned boy huffed but trudged towards his friends, Kurt biting his lip to stifle his laughter. Wes gave David a particularly hard knock and the boy tripped over a hay bale and fell on his back. The Asian boy took off his helmet and raised it in victory, spinning with his arms above his head.

As he faced them Kurt sketched a little wave causing the two of them to respond in kind, enthusiastically swinging their swords about, David still on the floor, bits of hay sticking _everywhere_. "Sammy!" he called. "Come fight with us."

"Yeah," Wes chimed, pushing the rising Wes back over absently.

"Alight," Sam said, surprising everyone, walking over to the man in charge of the sword fighting. Kurt glanced at the blond and noticed the evil gleam in his eyes.

"Be nice," Kurt warned, parroting Sam's words from earlier.

"I am," he replied innocently.

"Sure you are," Kurt said skeptically. "Don't make this end in a hospital trip, please."

"I'll do nothing of the sort."

"Mhmm," Kurt replied, entirely unconvinced. They might not being going to the hospital, but he had a feeling they all might be in the first aid tent that was a few yards away.

He moved over to the bench set up in front of the makeshift arena and crossed his arms and legs, debating whether or not he should just call an ambulance now. Boys could be so rough sometimes.

He remembered the strange rush he'd gotten when he punched Edison on the face and nearly groaned. This was going to be a bloodbath, and he sincerely hoped he was being dramatic when he thought that. From the expert way Sam twirled the wooden sword, Kurt wasn't feeling too optimistic.

Kurt sighed and slouched in his seat as Sam's friends squared off against him, figuring their odds were better if they were united. He was feeling rather disgruntled about the whole affair until Sam swung his sword in a graceful arc and clipped David in the shoulder. Then he had to resist the urge to fan himself.

Apparently, Kurt had a knight kink. He watched the three boys dart back and forth across the dirt and straw area, Sam effortlessly managing to combat two people at once. Well, this was unexpected.

After a few moments it appeared that Sam was ready for this to be over, that or just _really_ angry and getting out all his vengeance in two short minutes. This time is was Wes that found himself flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him and his sword a yard away from him.

Wes swung at Sam so quickly Kurt could hear the wooden weapon whip through the air, making him stiffen in worry. His anxiety was unfounded as Sam parried the blow and returned it so hard that there was the distinct sound of wood cracking.

To finish the blond boy lifted his leg and planted his foot squarely in the middle of Wes' chest and shoved, sending the boy reeling into a barrel. There was a tense moment of silence where Kurt prepared himself to run in a play peacekeeper before the three friends finally began to laugh uproariously and Kurt let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Sam pulled off his helmet and rammed his sword into the bale of hay near him, the sword sticking out like a parody of the sword in the stone. He helped Wes and David up, their faces flushed form exertion and excitement.

"That was awesome," Wes breathed. "Do you like, practice?"

"Duh," Sam said. "Fencing team, remember?"

David smacked himself in the forehead. "We kinda asked for that."

They brushed the straw and hay from their clothes and handed their "armor" and weapons. "Sorry," he heard Sam whisper as he handed over a folded bill, disguised in a handshake. "Um, I might have gotten carried away."

The guy shook his head and waved him on through, too busy staring at the girls selling roses near the food stalls. Kurt stood from his perch and slowly made his way over to the laughing group of friends just as Wes and David each bowed elaborately at Sam. "Good day, sir knight!" David declared.

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes, mostly relieved that they hadn't shared some terribly humiliating story with his boyfriend. For once.

They turned and both bowed their head towards Kurt before dashing off towards the horseback riding area. Sam approached Kurt sheepishly, all ready to apologize for being so grouchy earlier. "So," be began, dragging the single syllable out.

"So," Kurt replied. "That was kinda hot."

Apologies forgotten, Sam flicked an eyebrow up in surprise. "Really?"

Kurt nodded, eyes slightly vacant as he remembered. "Yeah, definitely. I'm sad I got into this Renaissance Festival thing late. My dad would love it and I could've been ogling boys for ages."

Sam laughed and shook his head, placing his hand on the small of Kurt's back as they walked through the rest of the games. "How about you just ogle me?" he suggested.

Kurt let out a put-upon sigh. "If you insist."

Sam nodded emphatically and they walked off towards the side where there were numerous fenced in pens filled with various farm animals and the overwhelming smell of grain.

"C'mon!" Sam enthused, pulling him towards what Kurt could only call a petting zoo.

Kurt grimaced and resisted. "I dunno…" he hesitated. "Animals kinda make me nervous."

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Like, sheep and pigs scare you?"

"Not…exactly."

"Then what?" he whispered, coming close.

Kurt huffed quietly and looked at him sheepishly. "I get worried that they'll bite me. Like, nip at my fingers."

"Nah," Sam assured, taking his hand and squeezing lightly. "Just don't move quickly and if you feed them remember to keep your hand flat."

They walked round the outside to the entrance and Sam reached out to run his hand down a donkey's flank. Her ears flicked in response and she leaned into the touch, snorting happily. "See," he said. "She's totally sweet."

The pale boy nodded and worried his lip slightly. He held out his hand towards the donkey's grey fur and tentatively brushed his fingertips against its silky coat. "It's so soft," he marveled.

The tanned boy nodded scratched under her chin, making her whicker in delight. "Let's go in," he urged.

Kurt nodded in acceptance and slowly walked to the entrance, trying to look at the animals inside. There were goats and sheep and some adorable pot-bellied pigs and Kurt was suddenly frightened for the lives of his shoelaces. Good thing he wore his shop shoes…

They walked to the entrance where a woman in a corseted dress balanced a baby on her hip. He smiled at the little girl dressed as a tiny sprite, complete with leaf-like hat and flower petal dress. There was a sign that advertised the pricing of the various food items them had and Kurt settled on the cup of pellets, slyly handing the woman his own money before Sam could pay for it.

Kurt walked in and was immediately swarmed by goats and sheep, making him peep adorably. Sam laughed and shooed away the lot before leading Kurt towards the far corner of the pen towards the donkey.

It was a quiet, sturdy animal and Sam was pretty sure that it wasn't going to eat Kurt's pants and scar him for life. He showed the skittish boy how to hold the pellets in his hand so that his fingers were safe from nibbling teeth, his eyes on the boy more than the animals.

Kurt seemed to have a quiet awe of the bigger animals while the smaller, jumpier animals made him shriek in the most becoming manner. He seemed absolutely captivated by the llama and Sam could practically see him shopping for llama wool sweaters in his head.

The slender boy ran his fingers through the thick, mahogany curls and carefully watched his face for signs of rage. He wasn't about to get spit on, no matter how good its fur felt.

"They're so cute," he said. "I just can't take their little faces. They look so grumpy!"

Sam chuckled. Personally, he thought they were ugly but he wasn't going to say so when Kurt was clearly enamored. The llama growled alarmingly and Sam wisely pulled the slim boy away as it spit not two seconds later.

"I guess he _was_ grumpy," Kurt pouted.

Sam nodded and moved over to the pigs (his personal favorite) and noticed that one of the sows had piglets. "Look!" he hissed, pointing to the molted babies around her.

Kurt cooed and shuffled forward, bending down slowly to kneel next to the piglets. He slowly reached forward to stroke down their chubby bodies. "Look how little," he crooned. "Can I pick one up?"

Sam looked over to the woman presiding over the petting zoo. He gestured towards the piglets questioningly and she nodded, mouthing for them to be gentle.

Kurt eagerly reached forward and cradled a tiny brown pig in his hands and cuddling it against his chest. "I want one," he whined, bouncing the pig comfortingly. "But my dad would never go for it."

He held the pig up and nuzzled his upturned nose against its tiny snout before reluctantly placing him back with his brothers and sisters. "I need to get out of here before I take one," he declared.

Sam laughed good-naturedly and put down the speckled piglet he was holding to make his way out of the fenced enclosure. They washed their hands in the giant tubs provided before wandering off towards the other attractions, little animal craving satisfied.

There was a thump coming from their left and Kurt turned to see people throwing axes at painted targets on a wooden wall. He noticed Sam staring and nudged him with his elbow. "Do you want to do that?"

The flaxen haired boy shrugged but Kurt walked over their anyway, keen to see if watching Sam throw axes was as *ahem* entertaining as watching him duel his friends. He pushed Sam towards the lanky guy holding bunches of axes and stood off to the side to better view Sam's…technique.

The taller boy hefted the axe and let it fly, Kurt jumping when it drove into the wood with a solid thump. "Oh," he murmured under his breath, watching Sam's bicep flex. Who knew the Renaissance festival was going to be so enlightening?

Sam threw another axe, embedding it even deeper into the wall than the first. Kurt wished fervently that there was a bench he could sit at because he was about to have a _crisis_. After this, they needed to do something decidedly unsexy.

As the other boy lifted the final axe Kurt found himself holding his breath, only for it to come shuddering out as the metal slammed into the wall so hard it made one of the axes his neighbor had thrown fall to the ground.

He smothered a most undignified squeak and smiled tightly as Sam approached, beaming from ear to ear. "I actually haven't done that one before!" he said cheerily!

"You were great," Kurt replied, trying to will away the inappropriately timed lust that was creeping up on him. "What's next?"

Sam sucked on his bottom lip thoughtfully, Kurt steadfastly avoiding looking at the teen and instead choosing to survey the activities around.

Sam pointed to where Wes and David had run off to earlier; a small trail where there was horseback riding. "Have you ever ridden a horse?" he asked.

"When I was in pre-school they made us take a picture on a pony," he said dryly. "I cried. That's the limit of my experience."

Sam chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Would you like to do that?"

"Promise we won't go fast?" he asked apprehensively.

"Promise," Sam said, holding his hand over his heart and practically skipping over to the horses.

Sam gestured that the two of them would like to ride together as Kurt had never ridden a horse before and the elderly gentleman in charge nodded kindly. "Wait until Arthur comes back around," he said pointing to the biggest freakin' horse Kurt had ever seen.

Seriously, this thing had to be part mammoth. Sam said something about a Clydesdale but Kurt wasn't buying it. This thing had to be unnatural. He was starting to have second thoughts about this horse riding business.

After a moment the stallion came around, its rich brown coat shining in the afternoon sun. The tiny girl that had been riding him hopped down with ease and skipped off to her mother waiting at a picnic table, babbling excitedly.

The man waved them forward, motioning for them to climb up. "Oh, my god," Kurt said under his breath. Up close, it was even more enormous and no small amount foreboding. "How the hell am I supposed to get up there?" he whispered frantically to Sam.

Suddenly, Kurt founding himself _lifted off the ground_ and scrambled to climb onto the saddle. "A little warning would be nice!" he shouted, voice strangled.

Sam just chuckled and rubbed at Kurt's calf soothingly. "Scoot back so I can sit in front and then you can hold on to me," he said, fitting his foot in the stirrup.

Kurt did so with unsteadily, thighs clenched tight to help him keep his balance. He felt terrible; he must be constricting this poor creature. Sam mounted the horse with little difficulty and settled in front of him comfortably.

The fair teen exhaled shakily and dug his fingers into Sam's shirt, holding handfuls on the material in a death grip. "I hate you," Kurt said, voice strangled. Sam just laughed and nudged the horse with his heels.

Kurt squeaked when he felt the saddle list to the side and abandoned holding Sam's short for wrapping his arms around his waist. "It's moving!" he exclaimed. "The saddle is moving!"

"It's fine," Sam assured, desperately trying not to lose control and laugh himself off the horse. Kurt was too precious sometimes. "It's supposed to do that."

"I'm gonna fall off," Kurt declared.

"No, you aren't. Just hold on to me and you'll be fine," he said, amusement creeping into his tone.

He could feel Kurt shake his head jerkily. "Yes I am. I'm going to fall off and it's going to step on me and I'm going to die."

Unable to help it, Sam shook with laughter. Kurt pinched him mercilessly around where he was squeezing. "I'm glad you think this is funny!"

Before Kurt could say anymore, Arthur hitched his back legs up to avoid a puddle causing the counter tenor to whimper. "Let me off. I want to get off."

"Sweetheart," Sam began slowly. "You can't get off now but you _gotta_ relax. First of all, the horse can totally tell, and second of all, you're cutting off blood flow to my entire body. I'm not going to go fast, I won't let you fall, and you won't get trampled."

He felt the air rush out of Kurt and the boy kind of collapsed against his back. "Sorry," he said. "I know you won't, I just—"

"Got scared. I know. Don't worry about it, baby," Sam said in understanding.

He felt Kurt's nose rub against his back as the other boy nodded, relinquishing his vice grip around his waist. After a minute Kurt's sighed against the nape of his neck. "Okay, this isn't that bad."

The blond reached back and patted at Kurt's leg comfortingly, keeping silent. The fair teen laid against his broad back, face pillowed on his shoulder. "This is actually kinda nice," he admitted, liking the privacy of the wooded horse trail.

"Mm," Sam agreed, keeping Arthur's pace as slow as possible. Too soon, they were rounding the bend and Sam could see the gate in view. He sighed dejectedly but was excited to get back to the festival and show Kurt the rest.

He felt Kurt pull away as they cleared the privacy of the trees and almost laughed at the prospect of watching Kurt dismount. He pulled Arthur to a stop and quickly slide off, looking up at the stricken boy.

"How am I supposed to get down?" he asked anxiously.

Sam just smiled and held his arms out to Kurt, pulling him from the horse. Once on his own feet, Kurt immediately began to brush at his clothes as if he had been rolling in hay and not riding a horse.

Sam wouldn't mind a roll in the hay, but that was a different matter all together.

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a flurry of food and shopping and taking silly pictures. As promised, Kurt waited until the end of the day to purchase anything so that neither of them would have to lug around bags until it was time to leave.

What Kurt did end up buying ended up being quite small; jewelry and candles and a tiny wooden dragon that was electric blue and reminded him of Sam's _Avatar_ obsession.

The things he was most excited about were the charms he got from one of the numerous belly dancing stalls that were found throughout the fair. The young woman in charge of the stall had said she used them while doing yoga, the tinkling of the charms letting her know how well she managed to hold her pose.

Kurt immediately bought bracelets for his arms and legs and, on a whim, one for his waist. If the heated look in Sam's eyes were anything to go by, the blond boy approved of this new jewelry wholeheartedly.

They made their way out of the park, making one last detour for the honey roasted almonds Sam had seen earlier. "For the ride home," he explained as he bought four bags.

"Sure," Kurt replied disbelievingly, spinning lazily on his ankle and starting off towards the exit. They trudged to the car, abruptly weary as they piled their bags in the back seat of Kurt's Lincoln.

They climbed into the SUV and Sam stretched before he turned the key in the ignition and started off for home. They were both quiet on the way home, and Sam was contemplating asking Kurt if he could take a nap at his house before going home when the other boy spoke.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" he asked tiredly.

Sam shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, suddenly realizing that it was true. He had absolutely _nothing_ to do tomorrow. No homework, no cleaning, no practice; nothing.

"Do you want to come over? I'll cook lunch. My dad and Carole are going to the doctor's for a checkup and I'm not allowed to go because I make everyone nervous, then after they're going to visit Carole's family for a while."

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I'd love to come over," he said. "Is Finn going to be there?"

"No," Kurt said, closing his eyes and reclining his seat. "He's doing something with Puck. Moving something or building something. I dunno."

An afternoon alone with his boyfriend. The first afternoon alone with his boyfriend since Kurt had come over to wash his car _forever_ ago.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

Kurt yawned and clutched his coffee cup. He was sitting outside on the porch to enjoy the cool, morning weather, draped over one of the outside lounge chairs.

He sighed gustily and willed himself to move with little success. He shifted onto his other side and stared at the open sliding glass door. Carole and his father had left about twenty minutes ago, hoping to beat traffic and make to the doctor in time.

Since his father had been discharged he had been seeing a specialist that was about an hour away, mostly at Kurt's insistence. Burt had been content to visit the hospital for his appointments but the anxious boy would have none of it. Luckily his father had given into his pleas to see a specialist with relative ease, knowing that it was coming from a place of love and worry.

Sam was coming over later on in the day and Kurt still had shopping to do. He was going to stop by his Aunt Maggie's and grab the things he needed to make the roasted vegetable salad and gyros he had planned for lunch, suiting Kurt's desire to eat healthy and Sam's more carnivorous tendencies. Besides, after watching _Mamma Mia_ last night, he was in the mood for something a little Mediterranean.

He groaned and reluctantly levered himself up from the lounger. He shuffled into the house and dropped his cup in the sink before going downstairs and getting dressed for the day. He pulled on a pair of white and light blue striped shorts and a flimsy cream shirt.

He slipped into some loafers and jogged upstairs, stroking his hand down the length of Eleanor's back on the way out. He snatched his list form the kitchen table and walked out the door, sending Sam a text to wake his lazy butt up.

In no time at all he found himself at his aunt's store and was happily perusing the stock and chatting with one of his favorite people in the world. They talked about everything from the Audrey Hepburn marathon that was on the weekend before to the "mysterious" boy he was dating.

Honestly, Kurt had been prolonging this meeting as long as he could. His father was pretty much able to be subdued with sharp looks and begging eyes but the same couldn't be said for his aunt. No, she'd want a timeline of when the taller boy was going to propose, whether or not he wanted children, how many, possible names, _and_ , most importantly in her eyes, what was the ring going to look like?

That wasn't Kurt's idea of a good time.

With a promise to come over for dinner during the week he left for the grocery store. After a quick stop to get the lamb and beef for gyros he found himself in the kitchen getting lunch ready in between texting Sam.

He was just finishing up the final touches when the doorbell rang, signaling Sam's arrival. He allowed himself a goofy grin in the privacy of his kitchen as he shed his apron and flitted to the door. When he saw that Sam was holding a handful of pansies, a riot of colors against his black shirt, he figured it was okay to grin like an idiot, just this once.

He curled a hand around Sam's neck and pulled him into a kiss; a brief, passionate crush of lips. "Hi," he said belatedly.

"Hey," Sam replied, eyes bright. "Um, these are for you, in case you couldn't tell."

Kurt beamed and took the bunch of flowers from his hand, gesturing for the other boy to follow him in the kitchen while he found something to put them in. He grabbed a shallow, clear bowl that would be perfect for the short-stemmed flowers and filled it with water before carefully arranging them inside.

"It's been a while since I brought you flowers, so…" Sam said softly.

"Thank you," Kurt replied gently. "I love them. They're so happy. They make me think about the flower garden in _Alice in Wonderland_."

"Yeah, the singing flowers. I thought the same thing when I picked them."

Kurt kissed Sam's tanned neck and pulled back reluctantly. "Help me bring all this outside? I thought we could eat on the patio."

Sam nodded and the two boys settled outside for a long lunch. Kurt was surprised when he realized they had been sitting outside, picking at their salads and gyros, for over two hours.

The weather was beautiful and Kurt was so full and content he didn't have the energy to take in the plates just yet. "That was really good," Sam complimented, eyes hooded as he slouched in the chair.

Kurt chuckled under his breath. "Thanks," he said, smiling lazily and resolutely pushing himself from the chair.

"Where are you going?" Sam whined, pouting attractively.

Kurt shook his head fondly and patted Sam's arm as he passed. "To lie down," he explained.

Instead of making his way for the lounger as the other teen expected, Kurt sprawled in the grass. "I'm too sleepy to go all the way over there," he explained at Sam's amused look. "And besides, the grass feels really nice."

He rubbed his cheek against the soft, springy blades as if to demonstrate. He heard Sam snort happily before coming to lie next to him, his body heat scorching Kurt's side. He made a sleepy noise and cuddled closer to the tanned boy, their noses barely an inch apart.

The fair boy brought a hand up to rub at his nose, their mingling breaths tickling his skin. He began to yawn and found his mouth covered by Sam's callused hand. "Don't start," He pleaded, desperately trying to suppress his own yawn.

Kurt nipped lightly at the roughed skin over his mouth, resolutely cuddling in closer and getting ready to take a nap whether Sam liked it or not. With a put upon sigh he let the slim boy use his as a pillow, settling onto his back and curling his arms around his shoulders and waist.

"Are you sure you want to go to sleep?" he asked.

Kurt made a slight sound and shifted against him, hoping he would get the picture and _shush._ "Pretty sure," he finally forced out.

Sam's hand pushed underneath his shirt, rubbing lightly. "Still sure?"

He nodded. "Mhmm."

A roughened finger slipped under the waistband of his shorts and rubbed against the hollow of his hipbone and navel. "How about now?"

Kurt smiled against his chest and forced his head up. "Samuel Jordan Evans, are you trying to get me to fool around with you?"

His grin was wide and unapologetic. "Maybe."

"Only maybe?" Kurt asked. "That's disappointing."

"How about probably?"

"Probably?" Kurt asked. He sighed dejectedly and flopped away from Sam, burying his face into the cool grass. "Probably's not worth moving for."

Sam chuckled and pulled Kurt back against him, hands on his slender hips. He nuzzled his nose against the base of his neck and smiled as he felt the other boy shiver against him, batting at him with one hand.

"Definitely," he said huskily. "I am definitely trying to take advantage of your kind, generous nature and convince you to fool around with me."

"Hmm," Kurt said, eyes closed resolutely. "Is that so?"

The tanned teen nodded, nipping at Kurt's neck and shoulders. He slipped his hand under his flimsy shirt and rubbed a slow hand over his stomach. "Mhmm."

"I dunno…" Kurt said teasingly. "I _am_ pretty tired. What do I get if I go along with this plan?"

Sam chuckled roughly and mouthed over Kurt's pale neck. "I'm pretty sure you know exactly what you get."

"Oh, right," Kurt said dumbly, shifting back into Sam's embrace. " _That_."

Suddenly the fair boy pulled away and sat up, stretching before he got to his feet. "Where are you going?" Sam asked, a hint of a pout in his voice.

The slim teen turned to look at the other boy in fond exasperation. _"Sam_ ," he began. "While _your_ nearest next door neighbor my not be in hearing distance, _mine is_."

He gestured to the tall bushes that surrounded his home and, sure enough, there was a middle aged woman hanging sheet on a clothesline barely ten feet from them. "And Mrs. Harold is a total busybody. She'd tell my dad and my aunt in two seconds," he whispered.

He walked over to the table and grabbed the empty plates. "Help me bring these inside?" he asked significantly.

Sam shook himself out of his stupor and scrambled to his feet. "Uh, yeah, of course."

Kurt headed into the house without another word and Sam could hear him in the kitchen. He brought in the platter that held the gyros and the giant salad bowl and placed them on the table.

He came up behind the slender boy washing dishes at the sink and put his hands over Kurt's, stilling them. He pressed a kiss to either side of his neck and reached forward to shut off the water.

Kurt turned in the circle of his arms and wrapped his warm, wet hands clasped around his neck. Sam kissed him deeply, dragging him away from the sink to lift him onto the counter.

The smaller teen made a surprised sound but didn't break the kiss. He tightened his thighs around Sam's waist and pulled him close.

Sam pulled back and kissed down his jaw to his neck, sucking lightly. "Basement," he said desperately. "Basement."

He nodded distractedly and lifted Kurt from the counter, causing the slender teen to gasp in surprise, wrapping his legs firmly around Sam's middle. The strong boy carried him down the steps to Kurt's room, mouth on Kurt's neck but his eyes on the stairs.

He gently placed Kurt on his low lying bed and stripped off his light jacket while stepping out of his shoes. The fair teen rocked back and undid his own shoes, shaking fingers getting tangled in the laces.

He finally got frustrated and kicked them off, pull his socks off with his toes. He barely had time to brace his feet on the mattress before Sam fell upon him, kissing him fervently and pushing Kurt's shirt up around his neck.

He pulled back to let Kurt pull the shirt over his head and kissed down his chest, licking at the creamy skin he found there. He felt Kurt hands clenching in the fabric of his shirt, tugging up the material until he could get it over the boy's head.

Shirt's off, the boys rubbed against one another until Kurt made an irritated sound and pushed the other boy away. Sam looked at him in surprise until he realized that he was struggling to get out of his shorts. He was so _totally_ on board with this idea and fumbled to get out of his own, shucking his jeans and underwear in one.

He turned back to Kurt and found him in a similar state of undress, biting his lip as the slim boy shimmied out of his sinfully tight boxer briefs and collapsed back onto the bed.

"God," Sam whispered thickly. "I just wanna look at you."

"Just look?" he asked, trailing his fingers down his abdomen. "I guess I am going to be disappointed."

Sam chuckled and grab's Kurt's wayward hand. "Well, not _just_ look." He pressed a kiss to the knuckles before leaning down to blow lightly over Kurt's skin.

The fair boy giggled and his muscles clenched reflexively. "That tickles," he choked out, trying to protect his sensitive skin with his arms. Sam lightly gnawed at Kurt's forearm before pulling back and kneeling between Kurt's legs.

Sam rubbed his hands up and down Kurt's thighs, a little nervous now that they were here again. They hadn't had sex since that night at the hotel and he felt a familiar fluttering in his chest, worry and lust and love all at once.

Kurt started to blush and bit his lips to stifle a giggle. "Why is this so awkward?" he lamented, tossing his head back and slapping his hands to the sheets dramatically.

Sam laughed, relieved he wasn't the only one feeling this… whatever this was. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt lightly, rubbing the lengths of their bodies together. "Do you have stuff?" he asked quietly.

Kurt nodded and wiggled up the bed, grabbing at the bedside table and rustling around until pulled out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. Sam's mind flashed back to watching Kurt touch himself over webcam. He felt his cock twitch and he breathed heavily through his nose, watching Kurt settle back down.

" _Are_ you just going to look?" Kurt asked teasingly, trailing his fingers down his stomach and stopping just below the base of his cock.

"Maybe… just for a little while," he said slowly, eyes lingering on Kurt's delicate hands.

"Do you…want me to…?" he trailed off, grabbing the lube and popping the cap off with a resolute click.

Sam nodded numbly. "Yeah, yes. Please."

Kurt bit his lip, equal parts embarrassed and turned on. "Okay."

He slicked up his fingers and tried to convince himself not to blush down to his toes. Sam had already seen him do this, just not in person. He could so this, he just couldn't do that thing where his made himself crazy inside because _ohmygod_ everyone was totally judging him, except not everyone; just Sam, which was _way_ worse. He took a deep breath and shook his head, closing his eyes. He spread his legs and felt Sam scoot back a bit, fingers dancing over his calves lightly.

He dared to open his eyes and saw Sam staring at him in awe, mouth open in an expression of lust. Fears allayed (sorta), Kurt let his fingers play over his sac, breath coming out in shivery pants. He let his fingers slip even further and rubbed around his hole lightly.

He watched as Sam's eyes narrowed to slits, hooded with arousal, as he slipped the tip of one finger inside. He bit his lip and sighed softly, pressing all the way inside. His back was bowed and he could tell that his lips were going to be red and swollen for hours after the abuse they were suffering.

He quickly added a second digit and turned his head to the side, burying his face in the pillow under the onslaught of sensations. He thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them when he felt Sam's hands running down the backs of his thighs and pressing kisses to his knees.

Sam dragged his teeth across the inside of Kurt's knee in a blunt scrape. "Keep going," he breathed, reaching for the discarded bottle of lube. The slim teen heard the cap click open and his breath hitched when he felt Sam's fingers play around his opening.

A thick, callused finger pressed in beside his own, making Kurt's breath stutter and catch in his chest. "Oh," he breathed. "Oh my god."

"Too much?" Sam asked, his long finger stroking over his prostate. He leaned forward and mouthed at every inch of skin he could reach making Kurt want to squirm with lust.

"Uh-uh," he said simply, toes curling until he was worried he was going to get a charley horse and completely kill the mood.

The sensation of Sam's finger next to his own made arousal coil low his belly, filling him with a delicious tension. "Ready," he said. "I'm ready."

Sam rubbed over his spot once more before pulling out, making Kurt grunt in shocked pleasure. He ran his hands up Kurt's body until he reached his shoulders, abandoning them in favor of grabbing the condom and carefully tearing the wrapper open.

He smoothed the latex over his erection and used what was left of the lube he'd used on Kurt to slick himself further. "What do you want, baby?" he asked, leaning over him for a sweet kiss.

Kurt licked at Sam's mouth one more time before rolling onto his side, Sam happily spooning up behind him. "Like this," he breathed.

He braced his hands against the cool, stone wall and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against Sam's chest and shoulder. His mouth fell open when he felt thick fingers back around his hole, two pressing in for a moment before pulling back and fitting the head of his cock to Kurt's entrance.

Kurt curled his leg forward and breathed deeply as Sam inched his way inside. He bit his lip as he felt himself stretch around the thick stalk of Sam's manhood for the second time. The blond boy worked himself in with tiny thrusts, listening as Kurt whimpered underneath him.

"Okay?" he asked.

"So okay," Kurt replied breathlessly. "Those are good sounds; keep going."

Sam nodded against his neck and slipped the last tortuous inch inside until his hips were flush against Kurt's ass. "Oh my god," Kurt gasped, shifting his hips back against Sam. "Oh my god."

It was even better than he remembered; a hot, throbbing cascade of pleasure that felt like white-hot fire through his veins.

He clenched his muscles experimentally and echoed Sam's desperate groan. "Move," he begged. "Please move."

Sam circled his hips slowly in lieu of response, making Kurt arch his back and hiss delightedly before it abruptly changed into a cry as his prostate was stimulated mercilessly.

He flattened his hands against the wall and used the extra leverage to thrust back against the solid form behind him, top leg lifting to hook over Sam's own. He felt Sam's hand trailed over his hip and to his straining length and stoke him slowly, tortuously, perfectly.

He was torn between it being too much and not enough; wanting to come _right this second_ but not ready to stop. He wanted to cry when Sam stopped stroking him but was _so_ on board when he wrapped his arm around his waist and rolled Kurt further onto his stomach, encouraging him to support himself on his knees as he was able to thrust even deeper inside him.

He groaned obscenely and forced himself onto his elbows, gripping fistfuls of sheets so hard he was certain he was going to tear them. He felt the muscles in his lower back tighten as he strained to meet Sam thrust for thrust, forehead pressed to the hopelessly mussed sheets.

Sam leaned over the slim boy's back and his mouth fastened to the pale expanse of his shoulder, sucking a smattering of love bites over the soft skin. His hand found Kurt's shaft once more and stroked feverishly. He was close, perilously close, and he didn't want to come before he'd seen to Kurt's pleasure.

Thankfully, Kurt was caught between Sam's thick cock impaling him and the hand on his erection and he could feel the beginnings of a tide of ecstasy beginning his chest. He felt lightheaded, but that could be from the fact that he found himself holding his breath as he neared his peak, desperate to fall over it.

Finally the delicious pressure peaked and he felt his orgasm slam into him, bliss singing through his veins and leaving him weak. He shivered as he came, slumping onto the bed, unable to hold himself up under the blitz of pleasure.

He could hear a whooshing in his ears and was vaguely aware that he was babbling, half nonsense and half filth. He forced his hand up to thread through the blonde hair that was spilling into his view as Sam urgently pressed his head to his neck.

"C'mon," he urged softly, rocking on his knees slightly, whimpering because it was too much too soon but it was also perfect and mind blowing and right. "Love you."

Sam made a pained sound that Kurt knew meant it was so good and felt hands gripping his hips in a bruising grip, Sam shuddering at his back. " _Ohmygod_ ," he said like a prayer. "Oh my god, Kurt."

He panted against his neck and managed to let go of Kurt's hip, trailing his hands up his spine like an apology. He pressed one last, sucking kiss to the nape of his neck before gripping the condom around his cock and regretfully pulling out.

Kurt mewled and Sam had to resist the urge to buck his hips into the welcoming heat one last time. He collapsed onto his back, sluggishly tying the condom and tossing it in the bedside trash can and continuing to stroke over Kurt's sweat-covered form.

"I can't believe that it was better than I remembered," he heard himself muse aloud, mouth moving without conscious thought.

Kurt chuckled wriggled until he was pressed along Sam's side, nuzzling into the tanned flesh of his chest. "I can't believe I had sex under my father's roof," he said with a laugh.

Sam reflexively looked up the stairs and sniggered at what he saw. "Well, it's not like we broke the rules; we _did_ keep the door open."

* * *

Monday morning started as usual. Kurt drove to campus and pulled in next to Sam and Blaine (plus Puck), carefully balancing a tray of coffee. Since all four of them were addicted to caffeine, they had agreed to take turns bringing coffee to school instead of all four of them having to stop or carry things from home.

He walked out and presented the tray to them all with a dramatic flourish and sighed in relief when they took their drinks, glad he hadn't spilled anything, especially in his baby.

Sam smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple in thanks. From behind his back he pulled a single carnation, a deep purple color, and held it out to Kurt, his smile turning shy. He took the flower and immediately brought it to his nose to inhale the subtle, sweet smell.

"Thank you," he said, glancing over at Noah and Blaine, lost in each other. "What's the occasion?"

Sam shrugged and scuffed the ground with his shoe. "Wanna go to homecoming with me?" he asked.

Kurt beamed and cuddled close to his chest, not caring who saw. "Of course I do!" he enthused quietly. He pulled his by the neck of his shirt and pressed a smacking kiss to his lips before giving him an enthusiastic Eskimo kiss. "Silly."

Sam shrugged again and rested his forehead against Kurt's. "I didn't want to assume, so I thought I'd ask."

Kurt scoffed and batted at Sam's chest. "What do you mean 'assume'? Did you think I was going to go with someone else? That I had various other suitors to choose from when I already have you?"

The blond colored hotly and shrugged _again_ , a habit he had when he was flustered. "Well, you might not have wanted to go…"

"Samuel," he said slowly. "I never pass up an opportunity to show the uncultured masses how to put their best foot forward. Going with you is just an unexpected bonus."

Sam opened his palms in a sign of exaggerated surrender. "My apologies. Next time I'll be more presumptuous."

Kurt smiled in satisfaction. "See that you are."


	29. I Just Can't Wait to be King

Despite the fact the he was overjoyed that Sam had (finally) asked him to the Homecoming dance he was at Stress Defcon One. It was Tuesday and he had yet to finalize his outfit for the upcoming festivities.

He had decided to forgo watching Sam practice this week in favor of finding something suitable for him to wear. Sam had told him he was going to wear the black suit he had and Kurt was a-okay with that. First, it's a classic. A black suit is _always_ in style. Second, that left his options _way_ open. Seriously, pretty much anything goes with black, so that was definitely a source of relief to the fashion conscious teen.

Despite his trust in Sam, he would come to regret missing the Wednesday's practice.

Sam waved goodbye to Kurt in the parking lot, watching Tina and Rachel climb in the car with him, on their way to the upper-class mall about an hour from Lima. He knew the slender teen was practically chomping at the bit to get into Saks and look through the new merchandise.

They had spent a _very_ satisfying twenty minutes making out in one of the abandoned Home Ec rooms, having been vacant since Brittany, confused, had accidentally (and miraculously) melted the coils in the ovens. The tang of metal and smoke was still in the air, probably would be forever, but it was easily forgotten in *ahem*, good company.

Sam quickly headed to the locker rooms and changed hurriedly before heading out onto the field. As he trotted over to the group some of the cheerleaders waved at him and, Sam being a gentleman, he waved back; what he would soon learn was a mistake.

Practice went amazingly. The lingering animosity between the players since The Big Gay Reveal and The Field Goal Incident had essentially faded except for the occasional sideways glance and glare from Karofsky.

While he used to hate the confused teen, now he just felt bad for him. To be so conflicted about yourself must be horrible. He remembered that brief stint where he thought his relationship with Blaine was toast because of his inexplicable feelings but he was lucky enough to have friends and family that would accept him no matter what.

Maybe that wasn't the case for Dave? Whatever the reason, he pitied the boy. He didn't dare show it; the last thing people like Karofsky want it pity, but he really did. He knew that the surly boy had asked out one of the Cheerios and had somehow rented a hotel room, for obvious purposes.

He looked at the girl, a pretty, short-haired brunette with wide brown eyes and felt a pang of remorse. He really hoped that she didn't get hurt when all of this, inevitably, didn't work out. And, knowing Karofsky, it would end in a big way. The kid was dramatic, seriously. Go big or don't go at all seemed to be his philosophy in life and he hope the girl didn't give her heart (or anything else…) to someone that could never return it.

He shook his head resolutely and firmly pushed away all thoughts of Karofsky and Cheerios and focused back on the game. Beiste had them running every drill forwards and backwards and any way in between. When she finally played a harsh trill on her whistle signaling the end of practice there was a collective sigh of relief as the players practically poured themselves off the field and into the locker room.

As Sam trudged off the field blonde hair swooped into his vision. A grinning Quinn Fabray had intercepted him and her smile reminded him of a predator stalking its prey. He was immediately uneasy and took a small step back.

"Uh, hi," he stuttered, taken aback.

"Hey," she breathed, and the boy had to struggle not to wince. That tone of voice didn't bode well. She tossed her chin length blonde hair and beamed at him toothily. "How are you?"

He ran and hand through his sweaty hair, thinking longingly of the shower he desperately wanted to take and the boyfriend he desperately wished was here to send this girl away. "I'm alright," he eventually replied. "Pretty beat from practice."

He had a sinking feeling why this girl was talking to him and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with camaraderie or convincing him to join glee club where even Kurt had failed.

She nodded, clearly uninterested, and surged forward, looking up at him from under her eyelashes in what he supposed was meant to be a coy stare. "What are your plans for Homecoming?"

 _Oh god,_ he thought frantically. _Oh_ GOD. _How the hell do I get out of this? Why is this happening?_

"Um," he said, wincing when he voice came out strangled and broke like he'd just hit puberty. "I, uh, I'm going to the dance with Kurt."

"Really?" she asked, smile deceptively sweet and tone patronizing.

"Uh, yeah," he said, starting to get offended, for him and for Kurt. "We're kinda together," he said firmly before backtracking. "No, not kinda, we are together. I'm pretty sure the entire school knows this so… why are you asking me?"

She shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed in what was supposed to be comfort. "Do you _really_ think that you can take a guy to the dance? You'll never make it through the door without some meathead tossing Kurt in a dumpster or drenching you in punch. It's a total image ruiner."

Sam just stared at her in shock and awe, not able to figure out which offensive remark to address first. She mistook this for acceptance and continued. "Come with me," she offered magnanimously. "We're both up for the crown and I'm sure Kurt won't mind."

He gently pried her off him and put some much needed distance between them. "Look, Quinn," he began. "I appreciate the offer, but Kurt _would_ mind. And more importantly, so would I. It's kind of…cheating."

She scoffed and eyed him in agitation. "Oh, please, it's just a dance."

"We both know that isn't true," he said. "Or you wouldn't be doing this."

She narrowed her eyes and her jaw set stonily. "Are you seriously _rejecting_ me for a boy that wears women's clothes and lip gloss and uses hairspray between classes?"

"Okay," Sam said coldly. "I was trying to be nice about this but you aren't so just stop. It's really desperate and unattractive and I _don't_ want to go with you."

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, taking a step back and glaring at him for all she was worth which, if the majority of the school populous was correct, was quite a bit. "Really? Seriously? Is that your answer?"

He nodded, feeling anxiety and guilt gnaw his gut. "Yeah."

"Whatever," she hissed before stalking off, shouting at some poor JV girl about technique and making her fall from the pyramid.

He let out a relieved breath and all but ran for the locker room. Due to his encounter with one of McKinley's finest he was almost the only person in there. Puck was lingering since Blaine was going to meet Kurt and the girls at the mall after he had gone over to his old house and checked on it for his mother and father.

"What's up?" he asked. Though it may be hard to believe, Noah Puckerman was actually a great friend. He was a good listener and more intuitive and sensitive than anyone gave him credit for.

"Quinn," he sighed.

Puck scrunched his face up in confusion, "Quinn?" he echoed.

"Yeah, she asked me to the dance."

The mohawked boy's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he paused in the middle of pulling on his socks. "No shit," he said, accurately summing up Sam's feelings on the subject matter.

"Yeah. I tried to let her down easily, you know, since I have a _boyfriend_ , but that didn't really work out."

The other boy shook his head in disbelief. "Tough break, man. I've been there; I know what she can be like. You gonna be okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, just kinda dreading the conversation with Kurt. He's gonna be so _pissed."_

Noah nodded and shouldered his bag. "Yeah. Is it wrong I'm kinda looking forward to the backlash?"

The tanned teen laughed and slapped his hand to the locker next to his in amusement. "I am too, but don't tell anyone."

Puck gave him a wink and a nod and left the locker room, leaving Sam to himself. He gave a gusty sigh and stripped off his football clothes and shoved them in his plastic shopping bag. He was just grabbing his shower caddy when his phone rang, Kurt's ringtone echoing off the tiles.

He rushed to answer it and managed to grab it in time. "Hello?" he asked breathlessly, hoping he hadn't missed him.

"Did you really call Quinn desperate and unattractive?" greeted him.

He blinked back his confusion but "What?" slipped out anyway. "How—How do you already know?"

"Santana," he said simply. "She saw Quinn go over and had some kind of train wreck intuition and called me and put it on speaker."

"Wow," he said, impressed by the Latina's ingenuity and possible evil genius (more likely).

"Yeah, I totally owe her," he replied, sounding less than pleased. "But, it was so worth it."

Sam chuckled and wondered why he thought that Kurt might have felt any differently. "So, you're not going to exact revenge upon her?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, I don't need to," he said around a laugh, hearing a chorus of female giggles in the background. "It'll be punishment enough when I come to school tomorrow and kiss you in front of her and _everyone_ knows that she got turned down for the 'Mayor of Gay Town'. You know that Santana can't keep a secret."

Sam raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "I have to say, I approve of these revenge tactics if it gets you to kiss me in full view of the school."

Kurt just chuckled. "You just wait."

* * *

Thursday was abuzz with Quinn's fall from grace and Finn's new date. Even though he wasn't the quarterback anymore he was still on the football team and that gave him a certain amount of social cachet.

Kurt's stepbrother had asked Katherine Martin to go to the Homecoming dance and the slender teen was really happy for him. He was glad to see him moving on from Rachel, especially when their relationship wasn't good for _anyone_ involved.

As promised, Santana had dug into the girls past (by breaking into her student records) and gleefully reported that she was perfectly boring. No arrests, no pregnancies, no post-breakup vandalizations, nothing.

Kurt had nodded his thanks and awaited her demands but none were forthcoming. He wouldn't delude himself into thinking that she was going to give him gossip and Quinn's defamation for free; Miss Lopez would collect.

In other news, last night he had finally found the perfect outfit. Well, the perfect pieces to _complete_ his outfit. He had the bare bones at home and had only been looking for something that would really make it pop, but not in an ostentatious way.

In addition to his sinfully tight pants he was going to have to squeeze into he had found the perfect vest. Silk, with immaculate hand stitching, flawlessly fitted to his body and a symphony in black. He'd also found a perfect deep purple shirt that he had every intention of leaving unbuttoned in the extreme, no tie. Sure, it was a bold move for a formal event, but he was kind of an innovator; a fashion ingénue.

If there was a bold statement to be made, Kurt Hummel was going to make it.

* * *

Friday was buzzing with the anticipation of the game. There was nothing more shameful than for a high school to lose its Homecoming game. The past three years they had been absolutely destroyed by their rival team, but this year things were looking up.

Since they actually had a coach that cared about the job _and_ her students, McKinley actually stood a chance of winning. This practically guaranteed an amazing Homecoming dance.

Believe it or not, Kurt had never been to a dance before this. He knew that, if he went, he would be a laughing stock and was likely to be beat up in the parking lot and teased over his clothes, which would inevitably be ruined as the gaggle of girls he went with would be unable to protect him.

But this year seemed different. Sam was the quarterback _and_ nominated for Prom King even though the entire population knew he was gay and dating the most flamboyant creature in Lima, Ohio. He was _really_ looking forward to Saturday evening. He never thought he'd be looking forward to such a mundane rite of passage as a high school dance but he really, truly was.

When school had ended he had bid Sam goodbye at his locker before running home and changing into something more appropriate for watching his boyfriend play football with Blaine and some of the others from New Directions.

He breezed through the door and kissed Carole and his father on the cheek as they looked over plans for their upcoming nuptials. He threw his bag on his bed and quickly stripped, pulling on a pair of jeans that showed off his assets nicely as well as a McKinely shirt his had finally purchased.

He had thought he was going to be able to say he'd gone four years in this pathetic institution without showing _any_ school spirit for this miserable place. But then his boyfriend and brother were on not only the football team, but any other sport you can think of. So much for that.

He donned his white shirt emblazed with McKinley's mascot in a stark red. He jammed his feet into some red high top converse and sat in front on his vanity to tousle his hair expertly before making his way back up the steps.

Carole had thrown together a simple dinner for them before the game, since they would both be attending (though not sitting next to him, thank goodness). He quickly devoured down his grilled chicken and salad in the most stunning lack of manners he had ever displayed and ran out the door, hoping to get to school before practice ended and the masses arrived.

He pulled into McKinley's parking lot and quickly made his way to the stands, sighing in happiness when there wasn't a line to enter their modest pitch. He showed his ticket to Ben Jacob Israel (a jack of all trades if there ever was one) and filed down to the end of the stands.

He texted those he intended to watch the game with his whereabouts and sat back to watch the teams warm up. His eyes immediately honed in on the blond hair of his boyfriend, smiling when he saw him laughing with Finn.

Kurt was so glad that they had gotten over their initial animosity. Finn had come leaps and bounds from that night in the basement and he was looking forward to really becoming a family.

All gentle thoughts were put out of his head when he saw the disgruntled form of Quinn Fabray stalking around the field. Tonight was a big night for the Cheerios as well since the team McKinley was playing was also Coach Sylvester's enemy as well.

Apparently they had a long standing feud over the best Cheer Squad in the United States. Kurt found it strange that both of these schools were in _Ohio_ of all places but really, what else was there to do except invest a lot of effort into sports?

Or drugs.

He pretended not to notice when Quinn attempted to glare him to death, instead choosing to focus on the football team and answering his texts. Jesses was coming into town, apparently going to the dance with Rachel. He sent a silent prayer to anyone that might be listening that it didn't go poorly. New Directions was still bitter over his sudden (but inevitable) betrayal and Finn even more so. Hopefully this new flame would be able to distract him from the St. James Effect.

He glanced over at Katherine and smiled when he saw that she was distracted from her standing splits because she was watching McKinley's very own giant lumber across the field to the water table. Perhaps this would work out after all.

He was shaken out of his reverie when he was hit in the face with a pompom, the scratchy plastic ribbons irritating his face. He looked up and saw Quinn's deceptively sweet face in front of him. "Sorry," she cooed. "It just slipped out of my hand when I went to do my handspring."

Kurt grinned back, as fake and plastic as the red and white pompoms he extended back to the sad girl. "No worries," he said. Unable to help himself, he went for a dig. "Excited for the dance?"

For a second her expression soured before recovering swiftly. "You betcha!" she gushed, and then trotted off to where Santana was holding court with the "elite" group of Cheerios.

Yeah, he wasn't pound of that. Psh, who was he kidding; of course he was. Going after Sam was low and something no friend would ever do. He knew that he wasn't as close to the fickle blonde as he was to some other members of the club, but he thought that they all had a kind of companionship with one another. Clearly, he was mistaken.

What was it about the desire to be popular that made people so ugly? Painful though it could be, high school was temporary and things would get better. Not that things were bad for one of McKinley's most desirable, even the label of cheater hadn't really tarnished her reputation.

He was derailed from this train of thought when Blaine waved at him as he walked down the metal stands. "Hey!" he called.

"Hi," Kurt replied, scooping up his jacket (stolen from Sam for just this occasion) and draping it across his lap. "Excited for the game?"

The dark haired boy nodded. "Yes, I can't believe we're doing so well! We could get to the playoffs!"

Kurt smiled politely, not really interested in football beyond wanting to support Sam and Finn and the rest of the glee guys. Blaine actually _liked_ the sport, making him the minority in their group of friends watching the game.

Tina was the next to arrive, then Rachel, the stand beginning to fill rapidly. He saw his father and Carole enter the stands and waved to them as they climbed to sit at the top of the bleachers, his father's preferred seating.

There was a whistle and then much fanfare from the marching bands of both teams, signaling their arrivals onto the field. The rival team trotted onto the field to a chorus of boos, causing Kurt to wrinkle his nose in discomfort.

He hated this aspect of sporting events. From his interactions with Quinn earlier it was clear he wasn't a saint or above some petty revenge, but he didn't feel like it was right to disparage someone just because they on the opposing side.

 _Another thing I guess I'll never understand about sports,_ he mused absently. His eyes were on the paper banner proudly displaying McKinley's colors and the helmet of a Titan emblazoned on the front. There was a brassy swell in the music when the home team burst through the banner, Sam in the lead.

He leapt to his feet and clapped with the rest of the crowd, eyes on reluctantly leaving Sam to find Finn. He glanced over to his parents and saw Carole waving to her son frantically, making him smile. He had really lucked out with Carole and he was so looking forward to her officially becoming his step mother.

After a long moment the fanfare dies down and the teams collected on their respective sides, receiving a pap talk from their coaches. Kurt was willing to bet that Coach Beiste's speech was going to be far more colorful than their rival's.

He took his seat and really looked at the other team, feeling a spike of apprehension when he saw the sheer bulk of some of the players. Getting tackled by someone like that could ruin someone's life, not just the game.

The Cheerios flipped by, showing off their back handsprings and such and making Kurt roll his eyes. Brittany spared him a little waved as she righted herself and tugged down her skirt before running over to where the pompoms were piled up.

Finally, there was a shrill whistle, signaling that the game had begun.

Kurt was on his feet, jumping up and down and surely choking Tina with his jubilant strangle hold. They had won!

It was a close game and from a minute there he thought that they were going to lose. In the last quarter they had finally managed to pull ahead by _one_ touchdown, and in the last forty-five seconds. They missed the field goal and Kurt's puffed up with pride.

Jock or not, Kurt Hummel was the best kicker McKinley had seen in years.

But they had won! Kurt knew that they energy in the air tonight would carry over into the dance tomorrow and he could only hope that it wasn't channeled into something destructive. He'd read and seen too many things on crowd mentality to want to be anywhere near an incited McKinley crowd.

The clapping eventually started to die down and then there was an expectant silence. As per McKinley tradition, the Homecoming Court would be paired up and the King and Queen would be announced on the field of victory (even though the victory part wasn't exactly tradition).

Even though he had no designs on the crown he knew that Sam and some of his other friends were all in the running and he was jittery in anticipation. He obviously knew who _he_ voted for (Sam of course), but he never did well with anticipation.

He was a nervous observer. He didn't like to watch live events, preferring to DVR them and wait twenty minutes in case he needed to fast forward through a moment like Kanye West stealing the mic from Taylor Swift. He was pretty sure he was as upset as she was, writhing about on the couch in embarrassment and disbelief.

Ben Jacob Israel tapped on the mic and made the crowd wince with the power of the sound. His nasal, quavering voice came over the speakers and announced a procession of football players, cheerleaders, and just plain popular students that lorded over the student populous with an iron fist with a few, noticeable exceptions like Sam, Brittany, and some of the other football gleeks.

Principal Figgins took to the podium after the names had all been called and the band played McKinley's Alma Mater, the envelopes announcing the Homecoming King and Queen clutched in his hand. "Hello, McKinley!" he chirped. "May present to you, your 2011 Homecoming Court!"

There was a cheer from the crowd, making Sam shuffle uncomfortably next to Brittany, the female nominee he had been paired with. Kurt smiled, knowing that while Sam pleased as punch to be nominated, he was also incredibly shy in situations like this.

Figgins held a gold envelope aloft and shook it meaningfully before breaking the seal and opening it. "Without further ado, your 2011 Homecoming Queen is Miss Santana Lopez!"

There was a resonant cheer form the stands and the fiery girl allowed herself one elated flail before sauntering over to Principal Figgins to receive her crown, sending a vindicated smirk over to Quinn as she walked past.

Once she had her crown and sash and overwhelming bouquet of red roses she stood off to the side, silently preening in the limelight, waving like an accomplished pageant princess.

Figgins fiddled with the final envelope, clearing his throat before moving his smiling face towards the microphone. "And now, your 2011 Homecoming King. Children, put your hands together for Samuel Evans!"

Kurt leapt to his feet and cheered wildly while Sam's face went blank with surprise for a moment. Brittany's enthusiastic congratulatory hug (and push in the right direction) spurred him into action. He ambled up to the platform and received his crown and such, completely awed.

Santana turned and gave Kurt a saucy wink, mouthing what looked like "Lucky bitch," in his direction. He laughed aloud as Sam walked over to the Cheerio and held his arm out for her to take. His wave was more jerky and earnest and Kurt could tell from experience that the blush he was wearing went well under his jersey.

The rest of the court clapped politely, some of them subtly glaring at the winners. Santana and Sam were urged into a trendy convertible and driven around the football field in a victory lap. As Sam passed Kurt he gave he a warm, genuine smile, and then went back to being intimidated by being recognized by such a large crowd.

Kurt giggled shook his head, bouncing with happiness and unable to wait for the stand to clear out so he could congratulate Sam and not scandalize the judgmental masses. Unfortunately, that would be later rather than sooner.

It took almost an hour for the majority of the stands to clear out. Everyone was talking excitedly about the dance tomorrow or reliving the highlights of the game and lingering around the stands and on the field. Finally, when everyone had retreated to their homes to rest up for the big night tomorrow, he made his way onto the field where Sam was being congratulated by a smirking Puck.

"Better you than me, bro," he heard as he neared the small group.

Sam rolled his eyes and clapped him on the arm. "Thanks, man."

Noah just shrugged and stepped back, opening his arms for Blaine to tackle-hug him. Kurt approached Sam much more reserved but smiling bright and proud. "You won!" he enthused softly, wrapping his arms around the blonde's trim middle. "The game and King. How awesome is that?"

Sam blushed and moved one shoulder up and down, rubbing idly at Kurt's back. He looked past the slim boy's shoulder and bit his lips, stifling a laugh. "Your dad is totally staring at us right now."

Kurt looked over his shoulder and, sure enough, there his father was, standing next to Carole as she gushed over Finn. His eyes were focused on the two of them and Kurt rolled his eyes at his father's protective gaze.

He raised a hand in a little wave that his father returned with a nod and, most surprising of all, a wink. Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked back to Sam, telegraphing his surprise.

He jumped as his phone vibrated in his pocket along with his father's ringtone. He pulled away from Sam and fished his iPhone out of his pocket and clicked on his father's message.

_I know ur all excited tonight be smart curfew til 3 this weekend dont make me regret it_

Kurt very carefully restrained the urge to jump up and down and pump his fist in victory. He quickly texted his father and reply, crowding close to Sam as the quarterback braved fatherly fury to rub his hand against the small of his back.

_Thanks Daddy! Don't worry, we won't do anything stupid, probably just go hang out in Sam's backyard by the lake._

He looked at Sam and babbled excitedly. "My dad says I can stay out 'til three this weekend!"

"Even tonight?" he asked happily.

Kurt nodded and leaned up on his toes to kiss Sam under his chin as his phone buzzed once more.

_Are his parents home?_

"I told my dad we were probably just going to hang out at your place, is that alright?"

Sam nodded. "That'll be great. I'm kinda beat from the game so that's actually perfect."

Kurt cuddled close, glad that the stadium was virtually empty. "If you're too tired we don't have to do anything tonight. Tomorrow is going to be a really late night too."

"Nah," Sam said immediately. "I'm not too tired, especially if we're just going to chill at my place."

Kurt beamed. "Good. Are you parents home?" he asked, not wanting to lie to his father, even if they weren't, but Sam nodded.

"Yeah, they are. They're probably asleep, or will be really soon, but they're home."

Kurt nodded in acknowledgment as he texted his father back. "My dad wanted to know," he said in explanation.

San nodded in understanding before looking down at him regretfully. "I gotta get out of these clothes. I'm going to go take a quick shower, but I'll be back, 'kay?"

Kurt nodded and pecked him on the cheek as Blaine did the same to Puck, both of them ambling off to the showers. They looked at each other and sighed, sitting on the benches meant for the sidelined players to wait.

His phone buzzed once more, another message from his father.

_Good_

The pale boy rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone and settled in to wait. He turned to look at Blaine and smiled warmly. "So, did you decide which vest you're going to wear?"

* * *

Kurt loved nights like these. He liked to be out and about and doing things and making plans but some of the best times were when there was nothing to do and no one to see but Sam.

He was cuddled under the blonde's arm and curled into the warmth that the taller boy constantly seemed to radiate. His parents were indeed asleep when they had pulled into Sam's driveway but his mother had left a note on the fridge saying that she heard they won (radio) and made him and Kurt some pear tarts to celebrate.

Kurt had no idea how she knew he was going to be here, probably psychic mom powers, but it made him feel welcome. Sam collected the desserts and some blankets and the teens went out to the little pond in the sprawling backyard.

It was surrounded by bushes and trees that screened it off from view of the house but it was quiet and romantic and the gentle sound of the water lulled Kurt into a state of relaxation he rarely reached.

The remnants of their desserts were stuffed inside a plastic shopping bag and tossed to the side as they cuddled under the flannel blankets. Kurt had been smart and set an alarm for half an hour before he was due home, knowing his propensity for falling asleep while he and Sam cuddled outside. Or inside. Or in the car. Or anywhere, really.

"Love you," he mutters, just because he can.

He can feel Sam grin against the top of his head and squeeze him closer. _Love you, too_ it means. Kurt's lips quirk up in reply and he shifts against the tanned boy to get his arms and legs free of the blanket tangle, making Sam grumble.

Kurt just chuckles lowly and maneuvers until his is sitting in Sam's lap, foreheads touching and noses rubbing together softly. He wraps his arms around the blonde's neck and sighs, curling his legs back and settling into the cradle of Sam's crossed legs.

He hunched down until he could slant his lips against Sam, too soft and chaste to be considered a kiss. At first. It seems Sam wasn't at exhausted as he claimed as he surged up and molded their mouths together.

"I thought you were tired?" Kurt asked slyly.

"I am," he said, kissing a trail over his jaw and to his ear before blowing gently.

Kurt shifted slightly and felt the bulge of Sam's growing erection nudge against his belly. "You don't feel very tired."

"Mmm, I definitely am. That's why you're going to do all the work."

The pale boy giggled and smiled as Sam suckles on his earlobe. "Am I, now?"

"Uh-huh," he said distractedly. "Now take off your clothes."

Kurt burst out laughing but didn't resist when Sam started to pull his shirt from where it was tucked into his super snug jeans. He crawled off the tanned teen's lap and began to shimmy out of his clothes, sparing a glance back towards the Evans' house, pleased when he saw that it was still dark and silent.

He watched as Sam lazily shed his shirt and thumbed open his fly. He kicked off his shoes and one of them went tumbling down the slight incline until its progress was stopped by the thick mud near the water.

"Leave it," Sam said, like Kurt would really retrieve a muddy sneaker from what was probably very chilly water. Kurt just rolled his eyes and shook his head as he pulled the denim down the other boy's long legs and tossed them to the side.

Both teens were left in nothing but their boxers, Kurt kneeling in front of Sam's spread legs. "C'mere," the blond boy murmured, taking the other boy's chin in his fingers. He brought their mouths together, tongues sliding together and twining languidly.

Sex on Homecoming night was so cliché. This was much more Kurt's style.

He let his hands roam Sam's chest, humming into the tanned boy's mouth happily. The blond let his hands settle of the small of Kurt's back, fingers idly stroking at the swell of Kurt's ass.

His hands slipped into the flimsy fabric and pulled them down, making Kurt hiss as the cloth caught on his length, making it slap up against his belly, the sound loud in the quiet, still night.

"Yours," Kurt said, tugging at the waistband of Sam's shorts. This whole sitting thing really wasn't conducive to effective undressing. "Take yours off, too."

Sam braced his feet on the ground to steady himself as he lifted up to divest himself of that final piece of clothing. Fully naked, Kurt took the time to just _look_. Sam had gotten to look his fill last time, now it was his turn.

Sam shifted under the intense scrutiny, but Kurt just smiled lightly and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the underside of his jaw, suckling lightly and worrying the fragile skin with his teeth. He let his hands wander, skimming up toned thighs to grasp the tanned teen's straining cock.

"Mmm," Sam murmured appreciatively. "That's really good."

Kurt just nodded against his neck and sunk his teeth into the flesh where it met his shoulder. He smirked into the warm skin as he felt Sam's sharp intake of breath, the sound cutting through the air like a knife.

He shuffled off Sam's lap and pulled the blond boy away from the tree he had been leaning against and tossed one corner of the blanket they had been huddled in across the ground. The blanket flapped out perfectly and lay flat as he pressed Sam to the side to spread out over the soft linens.

They traded kisses as their hands wandered and finally Kurt broke away from the kiss and looked at the blond boy seriously. "Do you have anything?"

From the pained and panicked look on his face, Kurt took that as a no. He sighed and went limp on the blankets. _Damn_ … he thought.

"Um, I could go get some?" Sam offered, leaning towards his pants, eyebrow cocked in question.

"Or," Kurt began. "We could try something else."

Sam rolled back towards him and pulled the slim boy into his arms. "Like what?" he asked eagerly, hands stroking down Kurt's back.

The fair boy stayed silent as he searched for the words, eventually huffing in annoyance. "Ugh, sixty-nine sounds so ridiculous but mutual fellatio is the most _unsexy_ thing I have ever heard."

"I dunno," Sam said slowly. "Sounds pretty sexy to me."

Kurt smiled, as he intended, bring back that relaxed, easy intimacy they had earlier. "You wanna?" Sam asked.

The pale teen nodded. "Only if you have the energy," he teased.

"I think I can muster up the energy…" Sam growled slyly and rolled on top of the squirming boy.

Kurt laughed as Sam buzzed in his ear, knowing how ticklish he was. He bucked and wriggled until the tanned boy rolled off and sat up. "Lay on your side," Sam whispered huskily.

The fair boy nodded and shifted to his side, running his hands over Sam's legs as he lay down. He pressed kisses along his inner thighs and nuzzled his nose against the soft skin he found there. His breath hitched as he felt Sam's five o'clock shadow (more like 1:30 in the morning shadow, but still) rub against his belly as he kissed down his stomach.

Kurt wiggled forward and pressed a kiss to his bellybutton, breathing in the spicy scent of his body wash and something more masculine. He pulled back and gave a saucy lick to the tip of his erection before sinking his mouth over the thick shaft.

He hummed in delight when he felt an answering heat encase his own manhood. He shifted against him restlessly as the blonde's head bobbed between his legs. Sam's fingers tightened around his hips and thighs as he moaned around his cock and flattened his tongue around the head, making Sam squirm.

Kurt closed his eyes and moved his hands back to massage the firm cheeks, making Sam thrust his hips forward. He felt his eyes water and his jaw ache but it was nothing compared to the shocks of pleasure zinging up his spine.

He pulled back and bestowed kittenish licks the base, stroking his hand up and down the shaft to catch his breath. His toes curled as Sam nipped at the flesh around his navel, mewling when he trailed his lips back up the side of his shaft to sink down over it once more.

Kurt took the velvet steel flesh between his lips once more and sunk down as far as he could, groaning as one of Sam's fingers slipped between his cleft and teased over his hole. The need to come was getting more urgent and he picked up the pace in hopes that Sam would do the same.

It seemed they were on the same page as the tanned boy mimicked his speed only to pause and swirl his tongue around the engorged head. _Gonna come…_ he thought frantically, hoping that his frantic whimpering would clue the other boy into his imminent release.

Regardless of whether the blond got his attempted warning he rode out Kurt's orgasm, the twitching and shivering of his hips not throwing him off a bit. He swallowed seamlessly and suckled at the over sensitized flesh until the fair boy's mewls morphed into something that telegraphed his growing discomfort.

He pulled off and placed and soothing kiss to his quivering stomach muscles and rubbed his hands up and down all the creamy skin he could reach while Kurt continued to swallow around his straining flesh. The pale teen maneuvered sluggishly until they were no longer lying side to side and Sam could spear his fingers through Kurt's chestnut hair.

The tall teen planted his feet flat on the blanket and ran his fingernails over Kurt's scalp making the slender teen purr in contentment, sending the most delicious vibrations down his manhood. He thrust his hips slightly, so close and desperate to come. "Kurt," he groaned.

A fine-boned hand came up to cup his sac, rolling the sensitive globes gently. His hips rocked forward once, twice, and them Sam was stuttering a wordless warning to Kurt, signaling that his was close. He felt Sam release and worked to swallow the seed filling his mouth, coughing lightly at the unfamiliar sensation.

With a last, slow lick his kissed his way up Sam's boy and curled into the tanned boy's shoulder. Now that they weren't occupied otherwise he could feel the chill in the air. He shivered against Sam's side and groped behind him for the other blanket; a thicker, flannel affair that would keep out the bite of the nighttime breeze.

The flaxen haired boy's arms came around his slim shoulders and held tightly. He chuckled under his breath and rolled onto his side, burying his nose in Kurt's hair. "If I wasn't concerned about my mother finding me naked by the pond, I could just sleep out here."

Kurt hummed in agreement. "Me too, but that's not something I'm ready for her to see and I don't think I ever will be."

"I'm okay being the only person that sees you naked," Sam said lightly.

Kurt hid his smiled in Sam's toned chest. "So am I."

* * *

The smell of bacon woke Kurt with a start, making him grumble in agitation. His dad _wasn't supposed to be having bacon_. Did the words "heart attack" mean nothing to anyone but him?

He refused to be pissed, however. Today was the day of his senior Homecoming, his first dance ever, so he _supposed_ everyone was entitled to a little celebrating. He smiled as he thought of the night before and the night to come as he stretched and threw the covers off.

He rolled out of bed and wrapped himself in a robe before climbing the steps slowly. He glanced at the clock and noticed with some surprise that it was after ten.

He opened the door and immediately went into the kitchen where Carole was busily poking at things on the stove and smiling animatedly. His father was at the table, grinning good-naturedly and reading the paper while looking at the bacon that was sitting on a paper plate by the stove with no small amount of longing.

Finn was mimicking him but with the noticeable addition of drool that might actually have more to do with the fact that he might still be asleep at the table. Kurt rolled his eyes and walked over to the coffee pot for a cup of life giving elixir.

"Good morning" he greeting, voice rusty.

There was a chorus of similar greetings and Carole leaned over to buss him in the cheek and smooth back his sleep-tousled hair. He smiled sleepily and shuffled over to sit next to his dad, kissing him on his balding head as he pulled out his chair.

"Excited, Bambi?" he asked quietly.

He nodded, feeling oddly subdued past the jumping excitement in his chest. "I am."

His dad placed his hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing his fingers against it comfortingly. "Missing your mom?" he asked insightfully.

Kurt found his eyes tearing up without warning and nodded minutely. "Uh-huh," he squeaked out.

His dad levered himself up and curled a strong hand around his bicep, gently pulling him from the table and silencing Carole's concerned query with a look as he led his son down the hall and into the guest room.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling Kurt into his chest.

The slender boy buried his face in his father's shoulder and felt hot tears run down his cheek. _Fuck_ , he thought vehemently. _I didn't mean to do this; not today_.

The truth was that he wanted his mother here, today, more than he'd wanted anything. This was just another milestone that she didn't get to share, that she wouldn't be in pictures for. Regardless of whether or not she was watching over his as some claimed, he wasn't able to watch over her.

"I know," his dad said gently, rocking the upset boy back and forth. "It creeps up on you, realizing she's not here to share your big moments."

His father might appear to be a simple mechanic, but he was a friggin' genius. His mother had been in the back of his mind all week and he had been hoping to make it through without crying. He supposed he should be glad that it was now, and not while the taking the obligatory Homecoming pictures.

He sniffled morosely and nodded into Burt's shoulder, fingers clutching at the soft, worn fabric of his fluffy robe. He squeezed tightly once more before pulling back and resolutely wiping his eyes with his hands.

"It's okay to be upset," his father said reasonably. "You don't have to put on a brave face and pretend it's all okay. I took the day off and Sam and Finn's new girl won't be here until seven."

Kurt nodded but remained silent.

His father perched on the side of the bed gestured to the old TV behind him, complete with fake wood siding and antennae. "If you wanted to, we've got plenty of time to watch _The Wizard of Oz_ or _The Sound of Music_ and you can eat that fake ice cream you pretend to like and still have time to get ready for the dance."

Kurt bit his lip, tempted by their (his) usual motherly-grief activity. He shook his head and smiled grimly. "No," he said softly. "As tempting as it is, I have to grow up sometime."

His father shook his head and looked at him seriously. "Kurt, you're never too old to miss your mom."

The fair boy felt a pang when he thought of his father missing his own mother, not dead but refusing to interact with him and his "unnatural" son. "Do _you_ want to watch _The Wizard of Oz?"_ he attempted to ask lightly, but missing by a mile.

Burt gave his a crooked grin nodded, slipping back into bed and reclining on the mound of pillows. "I think I would."

Kurt nodded and went to grab the movie from the living room, glad his father had chosen to stay in the guest bedroom. Odds were that he was going to cry regardless of his previous statement and he'd like to do it in remote privacy.

He smiled at Carole as he passed the kitchen and saw that she mad fixed him and his father a tray of breakfast and was carrying it to the spare room. He grabbed the DVD and managed to make it back to the room before his future stepmother had left.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and breathed in the smell of coffee and pancake flour, making him smile. His mother had always smelled like her Chanel perfume and the orange blossoms she loved, but he was pretty sure that this scent could grow on him.

* * *

Kurt stepped from the shower and delicately patted the moisture from his hair. He had about an hour and a half to get ready for Sam's arrival to the most important day of his life so far.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating, but it was still pretty damn important. He was vaguely worried about the reaction of the general populous, but Sam's election as Homecoming King had mostly allayed those fears. Unless it was all some elaborate ruse, hence the residual worry.

He was also concerned about Quinn. So far she hadn't offered any kind of retribution but you never know when it comes to the popular, vindictive, cheerleader type.

He shook his head and made sure that he dried off thoroughly so he didn't get water on the silk material of his shirt. He sat at the vanity and went through his moisturizing routine, quietly singing along to the music he had put on in the background.

Sam had introduced him to Mumford & Sons and Kurt was enraptured. It didn't hurt that the members of the band were all delightfully foreign and had a bluegrassy feel that made him think about Sam's southern roots.

He unrolled the towel from around his head and styled his hair expertly, going for a tousled look to offset the clean lines of his formal attire. He debated with himself briefly before shrugging and reaching for his mascara. It was Homecoming, might as well go all out, right?

He didn't need much else as far as makeup went. Thanks to a lack of football related injuries his skin was flawless and creamy. He smiled at his reflection and got up, walking into his closet where his outfit for the evening was hanging.

He slid into his black trousers, skin tight and with a faint sheen to them. Next came his shirt, tucked into his pants. He rolled up the cuffs so that they came just below his elbow and left two of the buttons undone at the throat. He grabbed a black bowtie and draped it over his neck but left it untied, adding to the devil-may-care look he was going for.

He slid his vest on, the deepest black silk offsetting the fig color of his shirt and the natural paleness of his skin. He finished the look with his amazing leather boots and a gold pocket watch, smiling as the black buttery leather hugged his calves perfectly. He shrugged and added a silk pocket square in a bold purple and gold print to complete the look.

He glanced at the clock and noticed that he still had a good twenty minutes before Sam arrived and was surprised that he had taken so long to get ready. He was glad for it, though, since it would give him less time to worry about parental reactions and (more importantly) mess up his outfit.

He tidied up his room and patted his pockets before slowly climbing the stairs. He could hear the low buzz of the television in the living room and he knew his father and Carole were waiting for him and Finn upstairs.

As he stepped out the door he nearly ran into Finn. The tall boy was staring down at his tie in consternation, not paying attention to where he was going. "Careful," he cautioned with a chuckle. "Let me help you with that."

Finn smiled at him gratefully and dropped the silky fabric, letting his arms hang at his side. The fair boy deftly knotted the yellow fabric (quite the surprise, if Kurt was being honest) and patted Finn's collarbone when he finished.

"Thanks," the tall teen said gratefully. "I was gonna have to ask my mom again."

Kurt grinned, feeling surprisingly calm. "No problem," he said softly, shrugging his shoulders lazily. "I have to ask, though. Why yellow?" To his astonishment, the gangly boy flushed. He wanted to tease Finn about but he decided to save it for later.

"Um," Finn began. "I heard her mention her dress was yellow to one of her friends. So, like, we match."

Kurt smiled warmly and gave in to the urge telling him to lightly punch Finn in shoulder. "That's really nice. She'll definitely notice."

The lanky boy smiled happily and Kurt was reminded of a giant puppy. He repressed the impulse to pat him on the head and walked down the hall with him. "Did you get her a corsage?" he asked. In his head he was mentally categorizing the flowers within a three house radius just in case he had to scrounge one together for him.

Luckily for both of them, he nodded. The best he could have done was made a corsage out of unseasonable tulips in the most garish pink. "Um, I got a sunflower one. Do you think that's alright?"

Kurt nodded. "That's really thoughtful," he complimented. "I'm sure she'll love it."

And then the opportunity for chit-chat between them was over as they entered the living room. Carole immediately cooed over them both and immediately became teary eyed, patting them both on the cheeks and pressing careful kisses to their foreheads.

"You both look so handsome," she gushed, straightening the collar of Finn's shirt needlessly.

Finn scuffed his foot on the well-worn carpet. "Thank, Mom. Um, I gotta go get Katherine, so I'll be back in a little bit."

His mother sniffed but just nodded and let him out the door. The agreement they had reached was that the tall boy would go to Katherine's house first and let her parent's do the picture thing and then come back to the Hummel's to let them do the same before going to the dance.

Sam's parents were going to follow him here, both of their families taking pictures of them before going out to dinner together. Apparently, he and Sam had been together long enough that their parents had decided it was time to get to know one another and Homecoming was a good night as any.

 _That_ made Kurt a little nervous. He wouldn't be there to control things when his father inevitably brought up embarrassing stories about him (sensible birthday heels, anyone?). That, and he wouldn't be able to hear the stories they told about Sam, an even bigger tragedy.

He was brought out of his musing by a startlingly strong hug from Carole. She pulled back and laughed depreciatingly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "You look so good, honey."

"Thanks," he said, suddenly shy, thinking about the boutonniere sitting in the refrigerator for Sam. He and Sam had decided to get one another a boutonniere and keep it secret until tonight. He already knew everything about Sam's outfit so the blond boy wanted to keep something a surprise.

"Be right back," Carole said, flitting down the hall for her camera.

He nodded and then turned to his dad. He had been suspiciously quiet through Carole's excitement and it had him concerned. He saw that his dad had stood from the chair and moved to the mantle. He was leaning against it heavily and had an unrecognizable expression on his face.

Kurt abruptly realized his father was holding back tears, and Carole's disappearance probably had more do with giving them privacy than getting a camera since her's was sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Daddy," Kurt said softly, feeling tears prick at his own eyes and cursing himself for not using waterproof mascara. "What's wrong?"

His dad shook his head back and forth quickly and pulled him into a fierce hug. "You're so grown up," he said thickly. "I feel like I blinked and the little boy I had tea parties with in the backyard turned into a man."

He sniffled but resolutely held back tears. He wrapped his arms around his father's waist and held on tight, not even complaining when his father ran his fingers through his meticulously arranged hair. His father inhaled deeply before pulling back and brushing his bangs back from his face. "Love you, Bambi," he said softly.

"Love you too," Kurt replied, wiping away the single tear that had made its way down his face.

Carole bustled back into the room and they separated, his father clearing his throat and readjusting his ever present ball cap. She had changed into what Kurt assumed she would be wearing to dinner and looked pointedly at Burt until he lumbered upstairs to change into his own dinner attire.

"Leave the hat," she and Kurt both yelled before giggling like schoolchildren.

"I swear," Carole laughed. "He would sleep in that hat if he could."

Kurt nodded. "I know. He says it's a habit, but I think he's just sensitive about balding," he confided.

Carole laughs and then there is the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She calls up to Burt to hurry and smiles at the fair boy excitedly. "Are you nervous?" she asked.

He puffed out a shaky breath and nodded. "Uh-huh," he admitted. "Is that dumb?"

She just smiled at him maternally and hustled to the door as Sam knocked. Kurt shook his hands in hopes that it would get rid of the nervous energy he was feeling before making his way to greet Sam.

"My parents are a light or two behind," he heard Sam explain to Carole sheepishly. Kurt had to stifle a giggle, remembering their trip to Columbus and his mother's driving quirks.

And then Carole was gone, leaving just the two of them standing in the hallway. "You look amazing," Sam said breathlessly. "Wow."

Kurt felt heat blossom over his face and smiled bashfully. "Thank you. You, um, you look wonderful."

And he did. He was dressed in a pair of well fitting black slacks. A dark grey shirt was tucked into his pants and Kurt could see he'd decided to wear a pair of suspenders, the ones from the Columbus trip, as well as a matching bowtie. Over it all was a light weight sports jacket in black and Kurt couldn't help but feel that, between his pocket watch and Sam's suspenders, they looked delightfully unique.

"Oh! Um, this is for you," Sam said distractedly, handing him a clear plastic flower container, still cold from the fridge.

Kurt grinned when he saw the purple orchid nestled on a bed of greens and loved it immediately. "It's beautiful," he said. "Thank you."

Sam grinned as the brunette teen pressed a kiss to his cheek and led him into the kitchen to grab his choice for Sam from the fridge. He'd gone with a simple bundle of lavender along with some fresh bay leaves and a light purple organza ribbon.

He handed it to Sam with a sense of trepidation, worried that he had gone in the wrong direction. His fears were unfounded as the tall teen beamed at him. "This is so cool," he said. "My dad wore something like this when my parents got married."

"Really?" Kurt asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. They had a really big affair affair but my parents wanted to keep something simple, so all the "flowers" we really like, herbs and lemons and stuff like that."

Kurt smiled in relief and rested his head on Sam's broad shoulder. "We can't put them on until are parents are ready to take pictures of us."

Sam nodded enthusiastically. "I think my mom would beat us both if she didn't get to take pictures of us doing that. She might be more excited than I am."

"You're excited?" he asked happily.

"Of course I am! I'm the Homecoming King!" Sam replied with a sly grin. "Well, that and I get to go to the dance with the boy I love. There's that, too."

Kurt rolled his eyes and bussed Sam on the cheek once more as he heard another car pull into the drive. "You're so romantic."

"I try," he said with a wink, stepping away from Kurt to meet his parent's at the door.

Kurt called up to his farther and Carole that the Evans' had arrived and moved into the living room to greet Sam's parents. "Good evening," he said, feeling another flush infuse his cheeks.

Patricia immediately pulled him into a hug. "You boys look so good!" she enthused. "I can't get over how grown up you both look!"

"Thank you," he replied laughingly, looking over to Sam's father. "Nice to see you again."

"I don't get to see you often enough," he replied, shaking Kurt's hand. "I barely see Sam enough as it is. Don't be a stranger."

Patricia clucked and rolled her eyes. "It's not his fault you live in the study, even when he's around," she said before looking at Kurt. "Maybe you can guilt him out of there and to the dinner table with more success than I've had."

Kurt laughed and shrugged, being saved from trying to formulate a response by his parents coming down the stairs. He smiled approvingly at his father's hat-free state and winked at Carole. She smiled and winked back, mouthing "I had to pry it away," and miming a tugging motion.

There were a few moments of chatter while everyone caught up and Kurt sipped on a glass of iced tea, perched on the arm of the chair Sam was sitting in. "Picture time!" one of the mothers declared and the two boys stood obediently before staring at each other awkwardly.

They laughed into each other's faces, unable to take the awkward silence as Carole and Patricia pointed their cameras at the two of them. The mother's rolled their eyes and took control, moving them this way and that and snapping away.

They went to retrieve their boutonnieres from the kitchen and Patricia got a little moony-eyed when she saw the arrangements he had picked for Sam. They both managed to pin the flowers to their outfits without stabbing the other and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. One more dance cliché they'd overcome.

As they finished they heard Finn pulling into the driveway with his date. Kurt found himself interested in the dress his date chose. He still didn't know the girl very well (at all) and formal attire could really tell a lot about a person. He only hoped that Katherine hadn't gone the traditional high school route and chosen something that was revealing in the extreme.

He needn't have been worried. Her dress was a vibrant yellow chiffon affair with a subtle sweetheart neckline. The tea length dress hung in waves about her knees, looking fun and light. She was wearing a truly impressive pair of white pumps with a peep-toe, adding at least four inches to her height.

She's left her hair down but curled it into loose waved that fell past her shoulders, one side pulled away from her face with a beautifully ornate, sparkling comb. Kurt was amazed how well the yellow in the dress accented her flaming red hair. She alternated between beaming at Finn and looking at her sunflower corsage.

"I like your pocket watch," she complimented, and Kurt decided someone with such an eye for accessories had to be an amazing person. Taste never lies.

Carole cooed over them and there was more picture taking before Kurt cleared his throat at 8:15 and said that they should all being going. There was one last round of (tearful) hugging and then they all shuffled out of the house and into their respective cars.

Kurt was surprised when he didn't see the Camaro in the driveway, Sam instead leading him to the Vanquish. "Special occasion," he explained with a shrug, holding the door open for Kurt to gracefully fold himself into the vehicle.

They waved to their parents and started off towards the school, Sam holding his hand in between shifting gears.

"So, did Puck come to get Blaine?" he asked.

Sam nodded and smirked wickedly. "Yeah, and he was so awkward."

"Blaine or Puck?"

"Both; especially Puck, though. You can totally tell that he'd never done the whole dance thing. He looked great, but so _hilariously_ awkward. I wish I was a fly on the wall for when they went back to Puck's house."

Kurt nodded and laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly. He patted his chest pocket for the millionth time and had the same panic he always did before remembering Sam had the tickets. He'd sneakily bought them one day at lunch and hadn't let Kurt give him the money for his own.

As they neared McKinley, Kurt could see spotlights in the air and wondered who had convinced Coach Sylvester to let them use the Cheerio's lights for the dance. He didn't even know why Coach Sue _had_ spotlights, since all competitions took place during the day…

They pulled into the parking lot and parked where they always did, watching as various groups and couples walked towards the gym's entrance. The theme for the dance was "Secret Garden", chosen by the Homecoming committee that was basically comprised of cheerleaders and Rachel.

He knew that his favorite diva had been pulling for a "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" theme, but he was glad they had chosen otherwise. That might have hit a little close to home. Anyway, he thought that he and Sam matched the theme wonderfully, looking like they were going to a quaint garden soiree.

The blond put the car in park and hustled around the outside to open the door for Kurt. The slender teen humored him, pretending to adjust his pocket watch while he rounded the car. Sam pulled the door open and held out his hand to help him rise from the low seat.

"Ready to go inside?" he asked, handing Kurt his ticket.

The brunette boy nodded. "Definitely. Tina and Mike are already here and so is Mercedes. Apparently, she has a date…"

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "When did that happen? Did you just find out?"

Kurt pursed his lips and thought to the text his sassy friend shot him right before he got in the shower.

_Um so i have a d8 4 tonite_

He had glared at his phone for a good two minutes before he could send a suitably excited text in return. Something that said he was happy for her but that they would be having _words_ later.

"Yes," he finally replied, his prolonged silence telling Sam all he needed to know.

As they walked to the gym they rain into Rachel and her date, one Jesse St James. The tiny diva looked magnificent in her seafoam green dress. It was a one shoulder masterpiece, layers of waving chiffon that stopped just above the knee.

Her hair was in a side pony, artfully draped over her naked shoulder with a white daisy pinned where her hair was gathered together. She wore silver flats and skipped over as soon as she saw them. "Kurt!" he squealed, gathering him in a fierce embrace. "You look amazing! I'm so jealous!"

She glanced over at his blond companion and continued, not letting anyone get a word in edgewise. "And Sam, you look so handsome! Did you pick that out yourself?"

Sam nodded and chuckled as the spritely girl tackled him next. He smiled at Jesse, taking in his causal grey suit. It was simple yet chic, making he and Rachel look flawlessly elegant. "Nice to see you," he said, hugging Jesse happily.

"Thanks, Hummbelina," he said with a fond wink. "You don't look bad, either."

He and Sam shook hands and continued on to the throbbing beat of music barely twenty feet away. From behind them he heard Finn say "Jesse?" in confusion and braced himself for a scene.

They turned as one and saw him standing with his mouth a gape, staring at the group in confusion with Katherine on his arm.

"Finn?" she questioned quietly. "What's wrong?"

He shook himself out of his stupor and smiled at her tightly. "Nothing," he said eventually. "I just wasn't expecting to see him here. He, um, graduated."

Well, that was one way to explain it. Finn merely nodded to the group and shook Jesse's hand mechanically before leading his date inside.

"That went better than I expected," Jesse said lowly.

"Don't jinx it," Rachel warned, tugging the curly haired boy towards the double doors that had been wedged open.

They each handed their ticket to Ms. Pillsbury and she ripped off the bottom part before handing them back the rest of the ticket. Madame Aziz stamped them on the hand with a navy tulip print before they finally walked into the gym.

Kurt glanced around and was impressed by the decorations. Of course, _he_ could have done better, but the gym was transformed.

There were huge swaths of green cloth hanging from the ceiling against what appeared to be a forest backdrop. It wasn't a garden, but it was close enough. There were balloons and streamers and fake topiaries all over the gym.

The photo scene looked like a scene out of _Alice in Wonderland_ and he found himself grinning. "I have to admit; I'm impressed," he conceded.

"It looks great," Sam agreed, looking around the room. "Do you want to find everybody?"

Kurt nodded. He was curious as to what everyone was wearing, not to mention Mercedes' mystery date. They found Tina and Mike, both dancing to the music wildly. They were both wearing red and resembled a couple from the times of doo wop.

He waved but didn't interrupt their dancing, on a mission to find his sometimes fashion-challenged friend. Sam tapped his arm and pointed across the crowd. He saw the girl laughing happily and Kurt could see the stars in her eyes from here.

She was wearing a magenta dress that look magnificent against her dark skin. Her eye makeup smoldered and her hair fell in thick curls down her back and curled against the top of her ample bosom. She looked fantastic.

Kurt followed close to Sam as the taller boy weaved through the crowd, clearing a path for them both. He caught his friend's eye and grinned widely, unable to stay mad when she looked so happy. He squeezed her tight and whispered "You look beautiful," in her ear.

She pulled back and beamed at him brilliantly before pulling back and fanning herself dramatically. "You boys are lookin' fine," she teased. She laughed but then looked at him sincerely. "Seriously, you guys look amazing."

He glanced over her shoulder pointedly, taking in the tall figure of the man escorting Miss Mercedes Jones to the Homecoming dance. McKinley was a small school and he could recognize just about every face of his fellow Titans.

"Sam, Kurt, this is Michael Andres. He goes to my church."

Kurt reached out to shake his hand immediately. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. I've heard so much about you," he admitted.

"Really?" he asked, looking to Mercedes for confirmation. She flushed attractively and shrugged.

Michael shook Sam's hand as well and now that those pesky greetings were out of the way he could get down to business.

"Did you go to McKinley?" Kurt asked.

He shook his head. "No, I went to the private school across town for two years until I tested out. I wanted to finish but I live with my grandma and she got sick, so she needed someone to take care of her. It was only pneumonia, but it was really severe and she kept getting colds on top of it."

"You graduated early?" Sam asked, impressed. "Wow, that's awesome. And sorry about your grandmother."

Michael chuckled self-consciously and Kurt found his humility endearing. "Yeah," the tall boy replied. "I was going to go to college last year, after my grandma got better, but I decided to wait until my littlest sibling, Anthony, started high school."

"Michael's got a full scholarship waiting for him at Ohio State," Mercedes said proudly.

"Oh," Kurt said, awed. "Is it for anything specific?"

"Biochemistry," he said simply.

And yes, Kurt most absolutely approved of this gentleman caller for his friend. "Well done," he whispered, praise for her ears only.

She winked and tugged a lock of his hair. "I know."

The music changed to something soulful and sexy and Mercedes grabbed Michael's hand. "You boys have fun! If you'll excuse us, I wanna get my dance on. C'mon, baby," she said, pulling Michael towards the dance floor.

"He seems nice," Sam said once they were out of earshot.

Kurt nodded in agreement. "For sure. I'm happy for her."

Sam nodded and moved closer, placing his hand on the small of Kurt's back. The slender teen leaned into the touch, his happy sigh absorbed by the sultry tones of Adele.

The moment was interrupted by Brittany bouncing past, Santana hot on her heels and trying to get her Homecoming Queen sash back. Both girls were in shades of green, Brittany's a bright lime and Santana's a deep emerald. The Latina girl snagged Brit's wrist and pulled her into a tight hug, the both of them laughing all over themselves.

The blonde girl smiled at Santana dreamily before leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, making the vivacious girl's eyes light up in shock. Kurt pressed forward to be able to hear the aftermath, knowing that he was being shamelessly nosy but unable to care.

"What was that for?" he heard Santana ask shakily.

Brittany shrugged and looked at the other girl as if _she_ were the one that could be confused by breakfast. "I love you, duh," and then she flounced off, pausing a few feet away to peer back at the awestruck girl. "Are you coming?"

The Homecoming Queen shook herself out of her reverie and Kurt thought he finally saw the first real smile on Santana's face. She nodded and took off after her date at a more sedate pace. They'd come as friends, but Kurt was willing to bet his best pair of Gucci boots that they would leave as much more than that.

"Well," Sam said, his tone full of amusement. "That's going to be a tough act to follow."

Kurt chuckled and shook his head before resting his forehead against Sam's. "I'm sure we can manage."

The music changed once more, back to a thumping dance beat and the two boys were swept up in the group of their friends, dancing with anyone and everyone until Principal Figgins stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone to get the student body's attention.

"Can we have our 2011 Homecoming Court on stage, please?" he asked, gesturing to the glittering banner behind him.

Sam pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and left him with his friends to take his place on stage. Santana grinned at him as she took her place next to him, still glowing with happiness. Kurt tuned out Figgins unnecessary droning and looked at his friends (and enemies) on stage.

While most of the members of McKinley's Homecoming Court looked happy to be receiving their moment of fame, one member of the Titan's elite looked miserable.

Quinn Fabray stood on the arm of Noah Puckerman, fuming all the while and alternately glaring daggers at him and then Sam. Brittany was now on the arm of David Karofsky but she didn't let that ruin her fun, bouncing on the balls of her feet and smiling happily over at Santana, the fiery girl wearing an intricate tiara and clutching an armful of white roses.

Sam had a golden crown in his head, complete with fake jewels, and the look suited the boy in a strange way. Kurt couldn't help but think of the Renaissance Festival, imagining Sam as King Arthur.

_Hmmm, Halloween ideas…_

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Principal Figgins announcing that it was time for the King and Queen to share their traditional dance. Kurt braced himself for _Dancing Queen_ but was pleasantly surprised when that wasn't the case. He loved ABBA, but the _cliché…_

Berlin's _Take My Breath Away_ filled the air and he smiled. He could only imagine that Rachel had something to do with the song choice for the coronation dance and he made a mental note to thank her.

Sam and Santana were both more interested in looking at their dates than each other but they still managed to twirl gracefully around the circle the students had formed around the stage. The last notes of the song hung in the air and _then_ ABBA's seminal teen song came over the speakers and the rest of the students joined in the dancing.

Sam immediately sought him out, fiddling with the crown on his head self-consciously. "Leave it," Kurt pleaded. "You look great."

The tall boy blushed and scuffed his shoe in the ground. Behind him Brittany threw herself into Santana's arms, the tanned girl whooping with joy and spinning her around to the music.

After a few jubilant songs the tone once again switched to slow and romantic. Kurt rolled his eyes and was almost certain that Mr. Schue was responsible for this particular song choice. Journey's _Faithfully_ waltzed through the air and students paired off, swaying together slowly. Kurt turned to make his way to the edge of the dance floor but was stopped by a strong hand on his arm.

"Dance with me?" Sam asked, an uncertain smile on his face.

He turned towards the kind boy and took a step towards him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. What's the point of being going to Homecoming if I can't dance with my boyfriend?"

Kurt smiled and let himself be pulled into Sam's arms, following the blond boy's lead effortlessly. They moved together slowly, Kurt resting his head against Sam's broad shoulder. He saw Santana and Brittany a few feet away, foreheads pressed together as they danced.

As they twirled round he could see Quinn and Karofsky dancing together, his forehead wrinkling in confusion at the odd pairing. They both had twin looks of fury on their faces, glaring at the couples wearing the crowns. Apparently the surly boy had ditched the date he came with and chosen someone more suited to his temperament.

Sam's eyebrow rose in silent challenge and David glanced away angrily before stalking off and leaving Quinn on the dance floor by herself. She stalked off the floor in a huff and threw herself into a chair.

Kurt could feel Sam's chest rumble in a chuckle under his cheek. The fair boy looked up and saw Sam's smug look. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked slyly.

Sam nodded and pressed a kiss to Kurt's tousled hair. "It's good to be king."


	30. The Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own a darn thing.
> 
> WARNINGS: smut, boys loving other boys, girls loving other girls, homophobia, angst, language, etc.

Christmas was swiftly approaching, bringing Carole and Burt's wedding ever closer. Kurt and his future stepmother had been planning for _months_ and the closer the date came, the more anxious Kurt became.

Part of it was because he was worried about all his planning falling apart because the few outside people he trusted (florists, dressmakers, etc) would prove to be incompetent and ruin _everything_. The other part was about the weird anxiety her was feeling about inviting Sam.

Going to a wedding together was kind of a big thing in a relationship (or so he was told). Sam would be meeting the admittedly few members of his family that his father was still in contact with, as well as Carole's family _and_ have to interact with the entirety of glee club _alone_ since he was going to be in full scale panic over trying to run the wedding even though they hired a planner towards the end to make sure everything goes smoothly but Kurt just _doesn't trust her_ with one of the most important days in the history of Lima, Ohio.

Technically, he had already asked Sam that day in the choir room, after they had danced to some Michael Bublé covers. The boy had said yes but things had gotten significantly more serious in their relationship since then and he wanted to make sure.

Nerves aside, he didn't want to pressure Sam into, like, over-committing. Even though he was ninety percent certain he was worrying over nothing, reason did nothing to quell his fears.

The invitations were about to be mailed and Kurt noticed Carole addressing one to the Evans. Since their dinner on Homecoming night, the couples had met three more times for outings and while he was glad their parents seemed to be getting along, it made him _worry._

 _I mean, what do you think they talk about?_ He thought anxiously, worried his father was going to let something slip that made the Evans disapprove of him.

Anyway, back to the invitations. Should he just let Sam come as a guest, along with his parents, or invite him as a date (again)? Was there a difference? He shook his head and sighed. If this is how Sam felt before asking him to Homecoming he deserved a cake for biting the bullet and just asking him.

Kurt resolved to ask him at school tomorrow, finally putting himself out of his self-imposed misery. It was already late on a Tuesday and he had a French test in the morning he needed to be rested for.

He slipped on the jingling chains he bought at the Renaissance Festival and went through a few "relaxing" meditative yoga poses before getting ready for bed. As he completed through his nightly moisturizing routine he could hear the sounds of war above him, rolling his eyes at Finn's _Call of Duty_ addiction.

Carole and Finn had officially moved in on Sunday, and since then the lanky boy had taken up residence in the guest bedroom on the main floor of the house. There had been minimal fuss and Kurt, for one, was glad that the Hudson's had slowly transferred their belongings over a period of months, making the need to help lug boxes across town unnecessary.

He may have also pretended he had a math test he needed to study for to get out of the little heavy lifting that had needed to be done.

He smirked to himself and crawled into bed, snagging his phone and sending Sam a quick goodnight text even though he knew that the other boy was mostly likely fast asleep.

He cuddled in to the blankets and grinned as Eleanor jumped up to curl herself tightly on the pillow next to him. He ran a lazy hand down her back, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr. Kurt breathed deeply and let the sounds of purring and digitized machinegun fire lull him to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Kurt drove to school with a knot in his stomach. He had shared his feelings with Jesse this morning and that turned out to be one big mistake. He loved the curly haired bastard's honesty but sometimes he could soften the blow, just a bit.

After laughing (uncalled for, in Kurt's humble opinion), he told him to "man up and ask Goldilocks to the social event of the season". Nice.

Even though he was right, it didn't make it any easier. He would wait until they were alone before asking him; being in front of a crowd would just make him stutter and turn the most unbecoming shade of pink.

He pulled into school before Sam and Blaine had arrived, parking in their usual spots and sitting in his car until the others arrived. Things had been better this year, better than he ever anticipated, but he didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to snatch him from his perch on the trunk of his Lincoln and toss him in the dumpster with yesterday's spaghetti.

He grabbed his notebook and went over the historical present tense and waited for a yellow Camaro to pull into view. Due to his nerves he'd gotten to school over twenty minutes earlier that he usually did and had time to spare.

Just as he was about to fall asleep over what was possibly the most boring French in history, Sam's familiar sports car rolled into the spot next to him.

He grinned, even despite his nerves, and was surprised when he didn't see Blaine's car behind him. The fair boy grabbed his bag and locked up before rounding the back of his baby where Sam was waiting with his latte.

"Hey," he said, pressing a kiss to Sam's cheek. "No Blaine this morning?"

Sam shook his head sat on the back of his Camaro. "Nope. Today is his anniversary with Puck so I think they went to have breakfast or something. Blaine was being really shady about it."

Kurt made an understanding sort of hum and leaned against the yellow car, sipping his latte idly. "So," he said, apropos of nothing.

"So," Sam replied, arching one eyebrow upward in question.

Kurt worried his lower lip between his teeth and cast his eyes downward. He could already feel the blush forming on his cheeks and was cursing his pale skin. "My dad's wedding is coming up," he began.

The blond boy nodded. He'd been there for quite a few of the planning events, especially the ones that involved the food Kurt would be making for the big day. Seriously, if he didn't become a chef, Sam would eat his own letterman's jacket.

"It is," he acknowledged, waiting for the point he could feel Kurt trying to make.

"You and your family are obviously invited," he prefaced. "But would you want to come with me?"

Sam concealed his smile by taking a sip of his own latter. "Like, as your date?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kurt murmured with a roll of his eyes, knowing Sam was teasing him but still feeling nervous. "? I know I already asked you, but that was a while ago. You didn't know what you were getting into."

"Weeell," Sam said, dragging the word out slyly. "I dunno. That kinda seems like a big responsibility. You know, like I have to help, and not just sit with my parents and stuff my face."

Kurt yanked Sam's fringe in retribution. "What if I promise to let you eat all you want in between dances and maybe preventing me from hyperventilating once or twice?"

"Sounds like a fair deal," the tanned boy relented, grabbing Kurt's hand and brushing a kiss over the knuckles. "So, how long have you been freaking out about that?"

Kurt heaved a sighed and practically collapsed against the back of the car dramatically. "Like, a week," he admitted. "I give you so much credit for asking me to Homecoming. That was stressful."

Sam laughed and pulled him into a hug, unable to help himself from pressing a kiss to Kurt's hair. "I love you," he said around a chuckle.

The fair teen smiled against Sam's neck, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of his throat. "Love you, too. What are you doing this weekend?"

Sam shrugged and looked down at the slender teen. "Nothing. Friday night I'm supposed to have another gaming night with Blaine—but other than that—nothing."

"Do you want to come over and help me starting cooking for the wedding? My dad bought a deep freezer so I could get started on it all."

"Sure, if you don't think I'm going to mess things up."

Kurt chuckled and nodded in acceptance. "When I say 'help', I mean 'keep me company'."

"Wouldn't miss it," he replied.

Time ticked by and soon it was time for them to separate ways and there was _still_ no sign of Blaine or Puck. Kurt shrugged and left Sam at his classroom, needing to get to class in time for his French exam.

The blonde boy walked into his AP History class and took his seat next to Artie, looking at his phone in confusion. He tapped out a text to Blaine, asking if everything was alright and received a curt _be there soon_ in reply.

What in the world was going on?

* * *

Blaine couldn't believe he was doing this. Was he really going to skip school to loll about with his boyfriend?

It would appear so, as his phone just rang to inform him that he had missed first bell and was showing no signs of moving.

His parents would surely think that Noah was a poor influence on him, but Blaine thought it was about time he broke some rules.

The mohawked teen in question was smiling at him softly and holding out a crudely wrapped present. He felt himself color and cursed the prickling he felt in his eyes. He hadn't really expected anything from Puck just because it didn't really seem his style to celebrate a two month anniversary.

The shorter teen felt a pang of guilt for doubting the sometimes-gruff teen as he took the present with trembling hands. He appreciated the fact that Noah didn't draw attention to the fact that he was sniffling alarmingly or that his eyes were watering.

They were watering! He wasn't crying over a present wrapped in Dora the Explorer paper, okay?

His own present for Puck was tucked away inside his bag, and he reached inside to hand it to the other boy.

"You first," the muscled boy said.

Blaine nodded and carefully tore at the paper and tape holding the box together. Inside was surprisingly tasteful scarf, a thick cable knit and a wondrously deep burgundy. It was plush and soft and he couldn't resist the urge to unravel the fabric and rub it against his cheek.

"I love it," the curly haired boy breathed. "It's so soft."

Noah smiled and toyed with the end. "I'm glad. It took a while to finish it, but I really love this color on you."

"Wait," Blaine sputtered. " _You_ made this? For me?"

"No, for my other boyfriend," Puck deadpanned before smiling. "Of course I made it for you."

Blaine ran his fingers over the thick yarn over and over. "I didn't know you could knit."

"I've got mad skills with a knitting needle. My nana taught me because she got too impatient waiting for Hannah to be old enough for it."

"That's… strangely sexy," Blaine admitted.

One of Puck's eyebrows cocked upwards with his trademark smirk and Blaine was pretty sure Noah could _feel_ the eye roll the other boy was giving him. "The 'sexy look' just cancelled it."

"Aww, babe," he whined. "I can totally be sexy again."

Blaine shook his head. "Too late. Open my gift."

Noah pouted slightly (not that he would ever admit to such a thing) and ran his fingers over the shiny white paper that encased the medium-sized box he was holding.

He ripped the paper with a childish enthusiasm and tossed off the lid, throwing it behind him haphazardly. "So awesome!" he crowed, pulling the iPod dock from the package.

Blaine had found an iPod dock that looked like an old fashioned record player. He knew that Noah was really passionate about music and his last iPod dock had suffered from a fatal coffee spilling accident and the taller boy had been forced to listen through his laptop speakers.

"Thanks, babe! I love it."

The mohawked teen beamed at him and pulled him into a quick crush of lips. He pulled back and snagged his coffee, downing the last few sips in one gulp.

"So," he began. "Are you freaking out about missing class or do you want to stay here a little longer?"

"Here" was Blaine's house—the living room to be specific. He had opened the tall French doors that led to the stone patio to let in the cool air and tossed a blanket over the already plush carpet for them to lie on.

"I think I could stay for a bit longer," he said eventually, leaning in to rest his head on the Noah's strong shoulder.

The other boy smiled and leaned back, taking Blaine with him. "C'mere," he purred, fitting his mouth to Blaine's in an surprisingly desperate kiss.

The smaller teen hummed in appreciation and moved to straddle Noah's lap, groaning when he felt Puck's growing hardness against his backside. He rocked back against the mohawked teen and moaned into his mouth heatedly.

Blaine pulled back and nipped at Noah's neck, causing the other boy to grunt in pleasure and he rolled them over so fast the air whooshed out of the curly haired boy in surprise.

Puck kissed down his neck and began unbuttoning Blaine's shirt to get at the smaller boy's unexpectedly toned chest. He shrugged the offending garment off for Noah to throw across the room and chuckled when he saw it landed on his mother's prized Tiffany lamp.

Blaine felt a wicked grin take over his face when he thought about his parent's reaction to their only son having sex on the living room floor with some ruffian from _public school_. Just because they had agreed to let him attend, didn't mean they approved of the institution in any way.

He scrambled to get out of his jeans and try to take off Puck's shirt at the same time, causing quite the amusing tangle. The taller boy collapsed on top of him, kissing him around a laugh and popping the button on his own jeans.

They giggled and peeled off the rest of their clothes, Blaine taking a moment to rub up against the taller boy in a hot slide of skin. Puck grunted under his breath and grabbed the other boy's leg to hitch it up around his hip.

Blaine planted his foot flat on the ground and used the leverage to press up against the hard lines of Noah's body. "Still wanna go to class?" Puck asked smugly.

"Shut up and kiss me."

The taller teen laughed and did as he was commanded. After a moment, Blaine pressed against his chest restlessly until the other boy rolled onto his back and Blaine settled on top of him. He rubbed back against Puck like he had before, this time the Jewish boy's erection rubbing between his cheeks and against his hole.

"This what you want?" he asked.

Puck nodded fervent. "God, yes, please."

Blaine smiled against Noah's lower lip and nipped sharply. "Did you bring anything?"

The curly haired boy enjoyed the moment of panic on Puck's face before chuckling and rolling off his toned waist. He lifted a pillow and pulled the supplies he'd stashed under there earlier and waved them in Noah's face.

"So much for 'always being prepared'. Isn't that what you said, sex shark?" Blaine teased.

Puck poked at Blaine's side, knowing he was ticklish. "Stop that," the shorter teen groused, straddling his lap once more.

Noah's grin was more self-satisfied than it had any right to be under the circumstances. Blaine rolled his eyes and leaned down, pressing a kiss underneath Puck's jaw and popping the cap on the lube. He trailed his slick fingers down Noah's washboard abs before circling his own entrance.

Blaine nuzzled his face into the jock's collarbone and chest as he slipped a finger inside. He mewled in pleasure and shifted his hips into his hand, quickly adding a second and then a third. "Condom," Blaine whispered frantically.

Puck nodded and fumbled with the foil wrapper while Blaine dribbled more lubricant into his hand. HE stroked his hands up Puck's shaft quickly, making the other boy fuck into his fist. "Enough," he hissed out, gripping the base of his cock roughly.

It was Blaine turn to grin in satisfaction, but it was soon wiped away by a slack-mouthed expression of bliss as Noah slowly pressed inside him. The stretch and burn made him bite his lip to stifle the pathetic whimper of pleasure that threatened to escape.

His breath stuttered out into a gasp as he sank the rest of the way onto Puck's stiff flesh, hips shifting restlessly against the sensation of being filled. "Oh, my god," he breathed.

Noah echoed the sentiment and planted his feet firmly on the ground before thrusting up into Blaine heat harshly. The sound of their skin slapping together reverberated off the bare walls of the all-but-abandoned house. The sudden movement startled a hoarse shout from Blaine, causing him to grip the other boy's pecs tightly.

He blanched in surprise as the tall teen rolled then over, Blaine finding himself unceremoniously dumped on his back. Before he could voice his protests, the tanned boy thrust into him once more, brushing against that spot that made him see stars and fireworks and made the very earth move.

"Don't stop," he pleaded. "Don't stop."

"Won't," Puck forced out, face tight from exertion.

The mohawked boy grabbed Blaine's hand and pressed it above his head, lacing their fingers together tightly. Blaine's other hand shot out and gripped the leg of the coffee table firmly, dimly hoping he didn't break the leg off a very expensive teak table.

He wrapped his legs around Puck's waist at his urging, nearly bent in half by the force of his thrusts. His cock twitched on his flat stomach, leaking furiously against the friction from their bodies. "Close," he warned. "So close."

Noah nodded and wormed a hand between their bodies, gripping Blaine's length and stroking him quickly. He thrust once, twice more and then Blaine was coming, his release spurting between them hotly. He cried out desperately, back arching to the point of pain before the tension inside him snapped and he collapsed back onto the soft blankets spread on the floor.

He trailed his fingers over the other boy's strong jaw and pulled him into a sweet kiss even as his thrusts became brutal and uneven. "C'mon," he encouraged. "Let go."

Puck did, coming with a throaty groan. Blaine wrapped his arms around the trembling boy and held him through the aftershocks. "Love you," Noah breathed.

Blaine smiled and pressed a kiss to the other boy's temple. "I love you too," he whispered. "Now get off me. We have classes to go to."

"I'm so glad to be here with you, too," Puck grumbled sarcastically.

Blaine rolled his eyes to suppress his hiss of discomfort as Noah pulled out. "You know I'm happy to be here with you. But put your pants on and get me to McKinley before second hour and I'll suck you off in the truck later."

Noah Puckerman had never put his clothes on faster.

* * *

Sam noticed Blaine stroll into their third period with a sheepish look on his face. The flaxen haired boy grinned at him knowingly and laughed when he took his seat precariously.

"So," he began cordially. "How was breakfast?"

His friend's cheeks turned red and Sam laughed uproariously. It wasn't often that his friend was rendered speechless. "That good, huh?"

Blaine nodded and fumbled with his notebook. Sam just winked at his friend and focused on the board. He would have loved to rib his friend further, but he really needed to ace this next test.

The rest of the day passed without incident. He met rushed to meet Kurt in the parking lot, glad that practice was cancelled though not for the reason. Coach Beiste had told them that practice would be postponed for the week since she had injured her ankle in a square dancing competition.

The team looked around at each other, trying to imagine their surly coach tearing it up on the dance floor, but Sam wished her well and then they were on their way.

He'd phoned Kurt quickly, hoping to catch him before he left the parking lot and invite him to revisit Color Me Mine. The other boy readily agreed and called his father to inform him of his plans while he waited for Sam at his Lincoln.

The blond smiled and scooped Kurt into his arms, spinning him in a circle and kissing him jubilantly, emboldened by the lack of students.

"Put me down," Kurt said with a laugh, wiggling in his arms playfully.

Sam mock-pouted and placed the boy on his feet. He face erupted into a grin and he shook Kurt by the hips gently. "Ready" he asked.

Kurt nodded and leaned against his car. "Do you want to follow me home and then just take one car there? Or both drive?"

"I'll follow you," Sam offered, already sliding into his Camaro.

Kurt chuckled at the other boy's eagerness but quickly started up his SUV and made his way to his house. He pulled into the drive and motioned to get out of the car. "I'm just going to change really quickly," he said. "I remember how messy we got last time."

Sam nodded and smiled guiltily. He followed Kurt inside and tried his best not to leer as the slender teen stripped off without ceremony and pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and tie dye shirt that Sam himself had made during one of their crafty dates.

It had gotten all messed up when he accidentally spilled bleach on it. He was going to just toss it but Kurt had snatched it from his hands and tossed it in his bag. "Do you want something to wear?" Kurt asked.

Sam nodded. "Please."

Kurt grabbed some of the clothes that Sam had left at his house and handed them to the boy. When Kurt's father had been stuck in bed, Sam had come over one weekend to mow the lawn, knowing that the fact that it was growing rampant was killing Burt.

That had caused a bit of a riff between Sam and Finn for a while, the lanky teen feeling guilty about not picking up the reins when he was needed.

Kurt fiddled with his hair as he waited for Sam to finish changing. He stood and stretched, looking to Sam to see if he was done. The boy was retying his sneakers and smiled when he noticed Kurt's scrutiny.

"All done," he said, gesturing for Kurt to precede him up the stairs. Kurt locked up the house once more and slid into Sam's yellow sports car happily. Sam got into the driver's seat and looked at him questioningly.

"Um, would you mind if I invited Wes and David? It's been a while since we all hung out."

Kurt shook his head and placed a comforting hand on Sam's knee. "Of course not," he said. "You know I like Wes and David."

Sam nodded and sent the dynamic duo a text before pulling out of the drive and making his way to the pottery shop. They arrived after Wes and David, as the other two boys were in the area—doing whatever it was they did when they weren't in school or Warbler practice.

They waved energetically as Sam pulled into the parking lot before giggling at whatever was on David's iPad. Sam rushed to open the door for Kurt as he always did, Kurt pretending to be busy with his bag/hair/seatbelt so he could make it to the door in time.

"Hi," Kurt greeted, laughing as Sam's friends swept him into a boisterous round of hugs.

Eventually, they all went inside and Sam and Kurt had to smother the laughter that bubbled up in his chest as the staff all looked panicked at the arrival of Wes and David.

"What do you do to these poor people?" Kurt asked good-naturedly.

The pair made exaggerated faces of offense. "You would us, Kurt," David chimed.

"Like we would ever do anything to disturb these good people," Wes added.

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Sure. That's why that woman is putting plastic liners over the table and booth seats we're going to be using."

The two just cackled ominously and Kurt rolled his eyes, moving over to the some of the animal figurines on the opposite side of the shop. Sam trailed behind him, looking at the festive winter ceramics. He grabbed a series of silly reindeers and a sleigh and watched as the slender teen ran his fingers over a winter fairy's delicate wings.

He tapped Kurt on the tip of his upturned nose and motioned that he was going to pick his glazes and sit down, leaving him to choose his bisques in peace.

He made his way over to the table and sat next to Sam, looking over at the Wes and David squabbling over coffee mugs nearby. Their glazes were delivered and Kurt began to paint the wings of the fairy he chose a soft, ethereal blue, leaning against the tanned teen as he did so.

When David and Wes joined them, the pair was oddly subdued. Kurt looked up from his work and smiled at them, but it went unnoticed. The two of them were so focused on their task that they were oblivious to the world around them.

He and Sam shared a look of amazement but decided not to question their good fortune. Even though he found Sam's rambunctious friends delightful and liked them a great deal, it was nice to be with them and not live in fear of being kicked out.

He put the finishing touches on his fairy statuette and placed it on the table to admire it. Thanks to years of subtle makeup applications, he had quite the steady hand, making minute details possible.

He looked over at Sam, concentrating so hard the tip of his tongue was poking out of the side of his mouth as he painted a gold trim on the sleigh he was holding. Feeling eyes on him, the blond boy looked over and met Kurt's eyes.

"Hey," Kurt said softly.

Sam smiled and nudged the other boy with his shoulder. "Hey," he said. "What is it?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing," and picked up the calla lily he'd chosen to paint a deep purple. He felt Sam's smile against his as he kissed him behind his ear.

"Love you," he whispered.

Kurt's paintbrush strokes slowed. "I love you too."

The table was quiet as the teens all painted their ceramic pieces diligently, the couple glancing over at each other from time to time and sharing looks of admiration. Kurt looked up from the flower head been painting to ask the two Warblers about glee club and then looked around in astonishment. Wes and David were _gone._

"Sam," he hissed. "Sam, where did Wes and David go?"

The taller teen looked up from his reindeer and appeared equally shocked. "Did they somehow manage to get thrown out without us noticing?"

The fair boy craned his neck, looking for the two teens as Sam scrambled for his phone. "Oh," he said softly. "Um, I guess they took of a little while ago."

"What?" Kurt said in disbelief. "When?"

The other boy laughed and looked at him bashfully. "When we got 'all lovey dovey', I guess."

"We did no such thing," Kurt scoffed

Sam shrugged. "They said they didn't want to intrude and that they would see us when we go bowling on Thursday."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I swear, one day you're going to find out that their womanizing ways were all a ruse and they're together. They are the only people that can stand each other for an extended period of time."

The blond made an affirmative noise. "Honestly, that wouldn't surprise me at all. I've always wondered about their bromance."

The slim boy nodded and moved to slid out of the booth and move to the other side.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked curiously.

Kurt pointed to the other side with one of the fingers not wrapped around his unpainted rose. Sam hooked a finger in the loop of his jeans and tugged gently.

"Stay," he requested softly.

The fair boy smiled and slowly sank back into the booth. "Okay," he said tenderly. "Okay."

* * *

Sam had been looking forward to this weekend since Kurt had invited him early that morning. He drove over to the Hummel's and arrived at 9:30 on the dot, as instructed.

Kurt was in the kitchen, making a healthy breakfast in order to fortify his family for the long day ahead. With the wedding fast approaching, each member of the family had their appointed tasks to take care of as the big day loomed.

Finn was supposed go for his final tux fitting and get a present for his mother and new stepfather. Kurt had given him a helpful list of suggestions since the couple had decided not to register for gifts, claiming they had all they needed and then some.

While romantic, and practical, the two boys couldn't _not_ but their parents something to celebrate the big moment when they would all officially become a family.

Kurt knew the tall teen would be absent most of the day, wanting to stay out of the way after Kurt lost his temper with his the last time he tried to cook for the occasion and found him eating all the canapés in sight. They had both apologized to each other but came to the mutual unspoken agreement that it would be best if he weren't around to be tempted.

Carole and Burt would be going to meet with the wedding venue staff to iron out the details for table placement and napkin folding and ten thousand other little details that were sure to drive the laid back couple to distraction.

Sam knocked on the door and a sleepy Finn answered, grunting something in greeting and holding the door open. Sam chuckled and nodded back in acknowledgment before making his way into the kitchen where Kurt was hard at work.

He smiled at Sam when he entered and shared a look over Finn's near-vegetative state before breakfast and coffee. They shared a brief kiss, separating before Carole or Burt could pop out of the woodwork and catch them.

"Omelet's for breakfast," he said simply as he plated one for Finn. "What would you like in yours?"

Sam shrugged airily. "Surprise me," he said, smiling warmly as Finn dug into his breakfast voraciously. "Want me to make some coffee?"

Kurt nodded gratefully and tossed a ton of vegetables and what appeared to be blueberry turkey sausage into a pan to sauté. As Sam set the pot to percolate, Burt and Carole walked into the kitchen, alert and dressed for the day.

"Morning, Sam," Carole said cheerfully, Burt nodding his direction.

Kurt opened the oven and pulled out two plates that he had already prepared for his parents, setting the dishes in front of them with a dramatic flourish. "Bon appétit," he said with a wink.

"You're in a good mood this morning," his father remarked.

The slim boy shook his head negligently and went back to whisking eggs. "I'm just excited; that's all."

"Thank you, Kurt," Carole said, a heartfelt sentiment. "You've worked so hard to make our day happen."

From his vantage point, Sam could tell Kurt was blushing. He shared a knowing look with Carole and Burt at Kurt's nonchalant shrug. He was startled out of his thoughts as Kurt slid a plate in front of him.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, looking at the plate filled with an omelet and home fries and multigrain toast. "It looks great."

Kurt just smiled and threw the remaining veggies and such in the pan for himself, leaning against the counter as he stirred.

The conversation flowed easily as they all ate and shared their plans for the day. Finn's responses were still limited to grunts and nods, not used to being awake before noon during the weekend.

Soon it was time for Burt and Carole to make their way to the Winston House, Kurt's future stepmother armed with fabrics and color swatches and a checklist of demands.

Carole kissed Finn on his unruly head and patted Sam's shoulder as she passed. Kurt turned his face up for his own goodbye kiss and waved them out the door.

The teens sat at the table and picked at their food and Finn slowly came alive after his second cup of coffee. "Imma go take a shower," he said around a yawn, making Kurt roll his eyes in exasperation at his lack of manners.

He grabbed the dishes and brought them to the sink, needing to clean the kitchen before he could get started on his tasks for the day. "Will you go downstairs and grad the binder with a picture of a wedding cake on the cover?" he asked.

Sam nodded and headed down the steps into Kurt's cool basement abode and spied the binder sitting on his bed, surrounded by cooking magazines and recipe books. He grabbed the requested item and headed back upstairs, sparing a longing glance back at the bed, still rumpled from the fair boy sleeping in it.

He made his way into the kitchen and waved the plastic binder at Kurt who gladly took it off his hands.

"Would you like to see the menu?" he asked, moving around pots and pans to get started on making the ten million canapés and hors d'oeuvres he had to make.

Sam nodded enthusiastically and sat at the table, attention focused on the pale boy as he rattled off the ingredients in each dish he was making for his father's wedding to Carole.

The blond suddenly noticed that the kitchen was brimming with food, so much so that the cupboard couldn't close and when he opened the fridge the amount of food blocked out he light bulb.

"How is it possible for you to have so much food in your house and not have to legally change this from a residence to a grocery store?" he asked in amazement.

Kurt let out a hearty laugh and had to clutch at the counter for support. "Samuel Evans, you are one funny guy," he said eventually, winded from laughing so hard.

The fair haired boy pretended to pick an invisible piece of dust from his shoulder coolly. "I do what I can."

The delicate boy rolled his eyes before opening his binder and flipping through, deciding to do the do the cooking while putting Sam to work assembling the things that didn't require cooking, like crackers with cheese and radish and lox and shrimp stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in cucumber. Ugh, after he cooked the shrimp.

Sam was content to let Kurt delegate and do what he could to assist the frazzled boy. Somewhere between slicing cheese and shaving paper thin slices of cucumber, Finn breezed through the kitchen once more, visibly restraining himself from eating the food in front of him.

"Uh," he began, staring at the skillet of pancetta Kurt was stirring. "I'm outta here. I'm going to the Westgate Mall, since it has the big Bed Bath & Beyond."

Kurt nodded and reluctantly held out a spoonful of the salty cured meat for the boy to taste.

Finn smiled like a little boy on Christmas and happily gobbled up the offering. "Text me if you need anything," he said, sounding markedly more cheerful.

"I will; thanks," Kurt replied, watching the boy leave with an amused eye.

They listened as Finn started up his truck and chugged off towards the mall.

"Vell. Here ve are," he said, putting on a fake Swedish accent, like Ulla from _The Producers_ , sending Sam into fits of laughter. Turns out, he's not the only one that can do impressions.

He took a deep breath and got back to slicing and dicing. He nearly cut himself with the peeler multiple times, so engrossed in watching Kurt was he. The boy was poetry in motion when he was in the kitchen. He could really see Kurt's passion for the subject, which ignited a very different passion in Sam.

It put ideas in his head, which led him to what he had been meaning to talk with Kurt about for a while now. He was itching to just spit it out, but timing was everything. Making appetizers for you boyfriend's father's wedding was not the time to have a sex discussion.

He'd feel terrible if he was responsible for the ruination of the Hummel's wedding catering because of a poorly timed question. So, quiet he stayed as he and Kurt prepared hundreds upon hundreds of crackers and shrimp and stuffed mushrooms and tiny crab cakes.

Though busy, Kurt was happily chatting away, flitting back and forth from the fridge to the stove to the deep freeze in the garage. Around noon, Sam's stomach growled ominously and the fair teen laughed aloud.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he began. "Being around all this food is kind of torture."

The blond shrugged sheepishly and placed the finishing touched on the last shrimp, sprinkling dill over the entirety of the pan before placing it with the rest in the garage. "Do you want to order something for delivery?" he asked as he returned. "Or I can get it if they don't. I don't wanna mess up your…" he trailed off, gesturing around the kitchen expressively.

"That sounds great. I don't know about you, but I could use a break."

Sam nodded and opened the drawer he knew the Hummel's kept their takeout menus. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked, mind going back his earlier train of thought. He knew what _he_ was in the mood for.

Kurt, however, just shrugged and came to lean against Sam's back and peer over his shirt at the menus. "How about Chinese?" he asked. "We just have to eat it all before my dad comes home or he won't be able to help himself."

Sam laughed. "Alright, I think we can do that."

The spent a few moments looking over the menus and comprising their order before Kurt called in the order and Sam moved into the living room to find something for them to watch. He settled on the show _Snapped,_ a guilty pleasure of Kurt's, and waited for the slender boy.

Kurt smiled when he saw what Sam had chosen and settled on the couch next to him, waiting for their lunch. The blond boy kept shifting beside him, making any real cuddling impossible. Finally, after an episode and a half, the pale boy sighed and pulled away to look at Sam more fully.

"Is there something bothering you?" he asked gently.

"No," Sam said quickly. At Kurt's look of disbelief he sighed and turned to face Kurt, sitting cross-legged and placing his hands on his knees. "Nothing is _bothering_ me, exactly. I just—I'm not good at bringing things up, like, subtly. Obviously…"

Kurt smiled at him but his response was cut short as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their Chinese food. The fair teen gave Sam a look that clearly said this conversation wasn't finished and went to the door, leaving Sam to collect his thoughts.

He shook himself out of his contemplation when he saw Kurt trying to balance multiple teetering bags of MSG-goodness and jumped up from the couch to assist him. The other boy smiled gratefully and they were silent as they spread out their unhealthy banquet on the coffee table.

Sam poked at his beef and broccoli with his chopsticks until Kurt jabbed him with his deftly. "What _is_ it?" he asked. "Is it bad?"

"No!" he rushed to assure the other boy. "It's just…awkward."

Kurt looked thoughtful. "Awkward how?"

"Awkward like the conversation we had when Puck came to visit Blaine at my house and we heard them going at it like rabbits."

" _Oh._ "

"Yeah," Sam said triumphantly. "Still eager to have this conversation?"

Kurt bit his lip and looked at the blond teen uncertainly. "No. And I'm not entirely convinced I was wrong when I asked it if was 'bad'?"

"It's not…I think."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is," Kurt deadpanned.

Sam huffed in frustration, annoyed this conversation wasn't going as smoothly as he hoped. "Okay," he began, abandoning his chopsticks. "So, just let me get through this before you interrupt, alright?"

He waited for Kurt's nod before beginning again. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts ( _not_ procrastinate) before smiling nervously. "So," he repeated, voice soft and serious. "We never really talked about, um, what happened that night at the hotel in Cleveland."

Kurt's eyes widened but he remained silent, nodding once slowly. Judging from the look on the pale teen's face he needed to hurry up and get to the point.

"Um, since then, we've been together a couple of times but, uh, I just—I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay."

 _Well_ , Sam thought in mortification. _I don't know that I can be more awkward._

Kurt waited to see if Sam was going to continue, almost getting the nerve to speak before the blond plowed on. "It's just, after that one time we talked at my house, we never really talked about it again. Like, what… you want? Like, when he have sex?" he finished.

"Uh," Kurt said, eyes everywhere but on Sam and poking at his lo mien despondently. "I, uh, I thought everything was pretty good. Is…is there something you want? Is that why you're brining this up?"

"No!" Sam rushed to assure him. "Well, yes. I mean, I guess. But like, not like— _shit_."

Kurt's face fell and he flashed back to a memory of Sam telling him he and Gordon had broken up after they'd started having sex because the older boy found him lacking.

"I'm fucking this up so bad," Sam groaned, hanging his head in his hands. "All I wanted was to make sure that everything was okay and I made myself sound like Gordon."

"Hey," Kurt said gently, still not entirely convinced Sam was trying to subtly hint he wanted something more. "Just… tell me. Don't think about trying to put things nicely or ease into it because all it's really doing is confusing me and making me nervous," he admitted with a ruefully chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam nodded."Okay," he agreed. "I hate bringing up Gordon all the time, but he's the only real experience I have with this."

Kurt nodded in understanding. "I know. I don't think you're hung up on him or anything. _Especially_ after meeting him," he stressed.

"Right, exactly. But I just… okay. Right before Gordon and I had sex we talked about, like, what positions we'd be in... You know?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.

"Like, who'd…?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "He said that he wanted to be on top, or whatever you want to call it, and I said okay, you know, because I was really nervous and like, didn't know what I was doing. But then, um, when we were talking and I asked if we could switch sometimes, like when I was more comfortable."

He looked to Kurt to make sure he was following as saw the boy staring at him in rapt attention. "Go on," Kurt encouraged.

"Not much more to say. Um, he pretty much laughed and said 'probably not'. I don't know if it's because he was planning to breakup with me even then or just didn't want to, but I felt terrible. We actually had sex that night, and I kind of just went with it because I already felt so vulnerable. And I just…I didn't want you to think that I wouldn't like, be willing to—that I would expect you to do something for me that I wouldn't do for you. I don't—I don't want you to be embarrassed to ask for something. Anything."

"Oh," Kurt said softly. He reached over and took Sam's hand, smiling at him weakly. "I'm sorry that you had that experience."

Sam shrugged it off dismissively and laced his fingers with Kurt's delicate ones. "You live, you learn," he said easily. "So, what do you think?"

The petite boy took a deep breath and shook his head in bewilderment. "Honestly, I don't know. Is it weird that I haven't really thought about it?"

"I don't think so," he assured quickly.

"I mean, I really like what we do. Everything we do," Kurt mused aloud. "Do you, um, do you want me to?"

Sam thought about it for a moment, trying to find the words when it really counted. He had totally bungled up the first time so now it really counted. "I want you to if _you_ want to."

" _Sam,_ " he said in exasperation. "Sweetheart, I love you, but I need you to give me a straight answer. I appreciate that you want to give me what I want; I do. I just—this isn't something I'd ever really given thought to so I kind of need your help."

He nodded, feeling nervousness gnaw at him but knew this was important. "'Kay. What do you want to know?"

"Well, first, I just wanna make sure that you know I love what we do together, okay? So don't you think otherwise."

He looked at Sam sternly until the flaxen haired teen smiled and his eyes softened. "I believe you."

Kurt nodded and bit his lip before continuing, voice slow and serious. "Do you want me to be on top?"

Sam considered it seriously before nodding slowly. "I think that I'm most comfortable with what we've been doing. I like to be on top; it feels…natural? Is that the right word for it?" he asked with a bashful laugh.

The mood was effectively lightened and he pulled Kurt close for a strong hug. "Anyway, like I said, I like being inside you, but I definitely wouldn't mind it the other way around. So yes, I do want you to be on top, but I don't want to pressure you into it if you don't want to."

"Alright," Kurt said, cuddling closer and reaching for his container of food. He certainly had a lot to think about. Ugh, and a lot left to cook.

If he ruined his father's wedding food because he couldn't stop thinking about having sex with Sam, he was going to be so pissed.

* * *

It turns out he didn't have to worry about his thoughts destroying the wedding appetizers because the kitchen appliances were able to do it all on their own. All thoughts of doing the nasty with Sam were put out of his head when the hand blender malfunctioned catastrophically and sprayed the pesto mixture he was making all over the kitchen and him. Not to mention an entire tray of appetizers.

He'd been so startled by the splatter that he has spilled what remained in the pot all over his front, the counter, the stove, and the floor. The kitchen became eerily silent as the other boy watched in horror.

When Kurt turned around his face was tense, lips set in an angry line. "Don't. Say. Anything," Kurt growled.

Any response Sam had died on his lips and he shook his head in understanding. Kurt stomped to the hall bathroom as Finn's truck rumbled to a stop in the driveway.

Sam could feel himself grimace, knowing that Finn's habit of pointing out the obvious ("Hey, there's green stuff all over the kitchen!") would most likely put Kurt over the edge.

The tall boy ambled into the house and did a double take when he saw the green mess in the kitchen. Sure enough, Finn pointed at the pesto explosion and said "Dude—"

"Shh," Sam said quickly, miming a slashing motion across his throat. "We know. Kurt's pissed," he mouthed.

Finn's eyes widened and he nodded, gripping his shopping bags tighter and quickly making his way to his room down the hall, hoping he didn't run into the moody teen in the process. As he passed the bathroom he could hear Kurt's grumbling and some angry banging, making him practically dive into his room to avoid the other boy's wrath.

There was a collective wince when Kurt remerged from the bathroom, door banging against the wall. Sam went back to slicing radishes, eyes focused on the cutting board as Kurt rummaged around in the laundry room for cleaning supplies.

Sam abandoned the sliced veggies and grabbed the roll of paper towels and started trying to wipe up the worst of the mess. He heard Kurt walk in behind him, the sound of something dragging behind him.

"You don't have to do that," the fair boy said tightly. "It's my mess."

Sam shrugged. "Pretty sure it's the blender's mess."

Kurt stomped over and accidentally planted his foot in the pesto mess, causing him to slip and fall. The Swiffer he'd brought in fell out of his hands with a clatter and he crumpled to the floor.

Sam turned to catch him but was too late, and the two sat there for a moment, looking at one another. Suddenly, the fair boy burst into tears, sitting on the floor and wallowing in his misery.

"Hey," Sam cooed. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Kurt sniffled wretchedly. "I'll never be able to get this done in time," he wailed. "I'm going to ruin everything!"

"Kurt," he said softly. "We have plenty of time. The wedding isn't for weeks and this is only one little setback—"

"Sure," Kurt interrupted. "Only one setback _now_ , but the more stressed out I get the more mistakes I'm gonna make and then I'll have to hire someone to cater and the food won't be healthy at _all_."

"Kurt, you don't have to put this all on you. It _is_ you father and Carole's wedding; I'm sure they'd be happy to help. Or Rachel? Or Mercedes? And of course I will. We have three weeks to get this done, so relax."

"It's not your job," the boy sniffled pitifully. "I only asked you over today because I wouldn't have been able to see you otherwise."

"I know it's not my job," Sam said patiently. "I still want to help, especially if you're this worked up about it."

"I don't want to take up your time during the week. You already have football and homework and—"

"Now you're just being difficult," Sam interjected. "Why are you trying to make things harder?"

"Because this is my job!" Kurt snapped. "I said I could do it and I will!"

"I know you will," Sam said, some annoyance finally creeping into his tone. "But you don't have to do it by yourself, even though it seems like you _want_ to."

For a second Kurt turned to look at him and his face was twisted in anger only to abruptly relax and crumple. The fair boy covered his face and took a shaky breath. "Sorry," he croaked. "I don't know why I'm arguing with you."

"You're stressed out and I think you need a break."

"But I have—!"

"To take a break," Sam said firmly. "You're not helping anybody by getting flustered and moody."

Kurt sighed in resignation and nodded. "Alright. I guess this can all wait until tomorrow."

"Wise choice," Sam said approvingly. "Why don't you go take a quick shower to get the spinach, or whatever pesto is made out of, off you? I'll clean this up and put away what we have."

For a moment is looked like Kurt was going to protest but he just nodded reluctantly and trudged down to the basement.

Sam sighed and pulled off a few paper towels and began to clean up the mess. He felt his mood sour further, left alone to deal with the blender's mess; understanding why the slim teen was so anxious but resentful that he had borne the brunt of it. He was startled out of his cleaning (brooding) by a surprisingly stealthy Finn.

"Is it safe to come out?" the lanky boy whispered.

Sam jumped and chuckled before he could check himself, nodding. "Yeah; Kurt went to take a shower."

"Want some help?" Finn asked, surprising him once more.

"Please," he replied, gesturing to the spatter of perfectly prepared pesto sauce.

Finn nodded and grabbed Lysol wipes from under the sink and reached to swipe at the mess that had made its way up the walls and all over the bonnet of the stove.

Soon the mess was gone and Sam was Swiffering the floors, just to be safe. He didn't want the Hummel's to develop an ant problem and he had a feeling that leftover sauce would just enitce the unwelcome pests.

Sam and Finn had transferred all the appetizers to the freezer except the ones that had been in the splash zone of the misfiring hand blender. Finn was eyeing them hungrily and Sam rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure Kurt won't be angry if you finish these off."

The tall teen beamed and quickly began to stuff his mouth full of (turkey) bacon wrapped asparagus. Sam chuckled and playfully punched Finn on the shoulder, steeling himself as he braved the stairs of Kurt's basement.

Behind him, Finn called "Good luck, man", making his assumption that Kurt was one to brood a solid fact.

He tread lightly down the steps and looked for his distraught lover. "Kurt?" he called softly.

"Be out in a second," came from the closet.

Sam nodded even though Kurt couldn't see him and scooped up Eleanor before sitting on the computer chair. He pet her slowly as he waited for the other boy to emerge from his closet, trying to calm down and gather his thoughts incase Kurt was still looking for an argument.

He didn't want to snap at the other teen but he didn't want to be yelled at for things that weren't his fault.

The slender boy finally exited his closet, head down and wearing an old Hummel's Garage shirt and a pair of what Sam learned were called jeggings. He made his way towards his bed and immediately dove into the cool nest of sheets and pillows.

Sam sighed and got up, holding Eleanor with one arm and making his way over to the other boy. He sat on the edge of the bed, near Kurt's waist, and waited.

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you," Kurt said eventually. "I don't want to argue with you, especially about something that isn't your fault or your concern."

"Kurt," he said lowly. "I love you, so everything about you concerns me, and I don't mean that in a nosy way. Especially when you get like this; I just wish you saw that you _didn't_ need to get this way."

"Still," the pale boy needled. "I didn't want to fight with you. I _don't_ want to fight with you."

"People fight," Sam responded with a negligent shrug of his shoulders. "Doesn't change the fact that we love each other. My parents bicker like mad, about everything; driving, food, clothes, how to wash the dishes. They're still crazy about each other. Just because you get mad about how drive my car or that there's a mess in the kitchen doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to stop loving you, you know?"

Kurt shrugged. "I guess. I don't ever really remember my parents fighting, but my mom died when I was pretty little. All I really remember are like, holidays and vacations and things like that, where everyone was happy. I'm sure they fought, especially if what my dad says about them being polar opposites is true, but…" He trailed off and gave another little shrug.

"Well, trust me. We may fight, and I might even yell, but I still love you."

"You can't know that," Kurt replied.

Actually, Sam was pretty sure he _could_ know that, but now wasn't the time to contradict Kurt. "You're right; I can't know that. I can't predict the future or make promises about forever," _Yet_. "But I can promise that, if we ever broke up, it wouldn't be because we had an argument over cooking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam replied with a smile. "I can't speak for the future, but I love you _now_ , and that's what matters."

"Love you, too," Kurt murmured, smiling at him a little melancholically.

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned down to press a kiss to the other boy's temple. He pulled back and rested his on Kurt's other side, putting his weight on the limb and looking down at Kurt. "Finn and I cleaned up the kitchen and put the rest of the appetizers away. Now, why don't you come upstairs and see what he bought while I make you a cup of tea?"

"Alright," Kurt said easily, allowing himself to be pulled from bed and urged upstairs. They walked into the kitchen and it turns out Sam's plan to make the other boy tea was dashed since Finn had already done so.

He didn't like to think little of people, even in passing, but Finn was showing unusually amounts of sensitivity today.

"Uh, I made you tea," Finn said, holding the cup out in front of him like a peace offering.

Kurt gave his soon-to-be-stepbrother a genuine smile and took the ceramic cup from his hands. "Thanks." He sat at the table and took a tentative sip before sighing and letting himself relax. He grinned up at Sam and patted the seat next to him, a wordless plea for him to sit. The blond did so and placed a comforting hand on the boy's knee under the table.

"So," Kurt began. "What did you get while you were out?"

Finn held a finger in the air and lumbered off to his room to grab his purchases. Kurt sipped his tea in between cuddling against Sam's shoulder, feeling silly and vulnerable for his earlier outburst. "Sorry," he whispered again.

"Stop apologizing," Sam said just as quietly. He pressed a kiss to Kurt's still-damp hair and smoothed it back from his forehead.

Finn strode back into the kitchen, bags in hand, looking worried. "I know we went over what I should get before I went shopping, so I hope it's right," he preempted.

"I'm sure you did fine," Kurt assured. "Now, let's see."

The awkward teen's head bobbed in a nod, reminding Kurt of a bird, and dug his big hands into the bags, the thick paper making a loud, percussive sound in the quiet kitchen.

He pulled out what was clearly bought with his mother in mind. Kurt smiled at the unexpectedly elegant candelabra. It was heavy, made from iron and painted over in white to give it a faded, shabby chic look. The boy also pulled out a box of lemon scented tapered candles to go with the gift.

"This is really nice, Finn," he complimented. 'It's very pretty."

"Really?" the other boy asked hopefully.

"Really. I'm impressed."

Finn beamed for a moment before rummaging in the bags again. "I know that Burt won't really be interested in the candala thing, so I got them something else that he would like, too."

He presented them with a box filled with grilling tools. Kurt spied a meat fork with a built in thermometer and did a mental dance. Now his father had no excuse to just "think" the meat was done. He lived in fear of salmonella and botulism when his father grilled, but no longer.

"Awesome," Sam interjected when Kurt had spent to long mentally celebrating.

"It is," Kurt agreed readily.

"What is?" they heard from the front door, somehow having completely missed their parent's arrival.

There was a flurry of movement and some frantic yelling for them to stay where they were as Finn quickly concealed the gifts and ran to his room. "Okay," Kurt called. "You can come in."

Carole entered the kitchen happily, bussing all her children (Sam included) on the cheek before pouring herself a cup of tea. Burt came in at a more sedate pace, his face suspicious.

"Relax," Kurt chided. "You just almost ruined a surprise, is all. Nothing illicit going on here."

Burt hummed, sounding unconvinced. Kurt rolled his eyes before getting caught in a massive yawn and rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

"You alright, Bambi?"

Kurt smiled in reassurance. "Yeah. Cooking today just took more out of me than I thought."

Sam manfully repressed his snort. That was an understatement. Kurt eyed him in warning anyway, so he may as well have made the derisive sound. Burt noticed their interaction and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Then what's all that about?" he gestured, meaning their silent conversation.

Kurt sighed and pinched Sam's leg under the table, making the blond boy flinch and scoot his legs away. "There was a problem with the hand blender," Kurt said. "It made the pesto sauce I was making explode everywhere and ruined an entire tray of hors d'oeuvres. And then I had a nervous breakdown and Sam and Finn had to clean up the mess."

Burt looked around and nodded. "I was wondering what the green stuff on the ceiling was."

They all looked up and, sure enough, there was pesto splattered on the ceiling. Kurt folded his arms on the table and dramatically collapsed on them with an exaggerated whine.

"Hush," Sam whispered. "I'll get it with the broom later."

He excused himself to go to the bathroom and left Kurt alone with his father and Carole. Burt sat at the table next to Carole and looked at his. He looked worn and stressed and he was worrying that his wedding might put _Kurt_ in the hospital with a heart attack.

"You okay, Kurt?" he asked, trying to catch his son's eyes.

He nodded and gave his father a wan smile. "Yeah. Just over stretched myself today and snapped at Sam because I was frustrated."

His father looked at him seriously and reached across the table to take his hand. "Kurt, if doing all of this is too much for you, we'd understand," he began. "I thought you were damn crazy when you said you were going to do all this. I'm grateful as can be, but I don't want _you_ to end up in the hospital when all's said and done."

Carole nodded before putting her two cents in. "Honey, if you need help, you just ask. And if you don't think you can do it here, I'm sure we can just work something out last minute."

"No," Kurt said quickly, not wanting to start another fight. "I can do it. I'll just do it in smaller batches throughout the week instead of just the weekend. I'll be fine."

Burt and Carole seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway. His future stepmother rose and pressed a kiss to his and his father's head before excusing herself to take a bath and soak away the stress of dealing with a wedding venue and its staff.

Kurt's father sighed and took off his hat, rubbing a hand over his forehead slowly. "Okay," he started, catching Kurt's attention. "So, here's the thing. You're a good kid; you've never given me trouble. I can tell you've had one hell of a day. Am I right?"

The fair teen debated lying and telling his father that he was just tired but decided against it. "I guess," he said listlessly.

"You've done so much for this wedding that I think it's only fair that you get something in return. If you want, Sam can stay the night."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, face blank with shock. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Burt replied.

"On the couch?" he clarified.

Burt sighed again and looked heavenward. "No, he can stay down with you. I know that you'd probably just fall asleep up here with him anyway."

Kurt was shocked, to say the least. However, he wasn't one to question someone's apparent mental breakdown when it benefited him so well. "Door open?" he asked with a wry grin.

"You can keep the door closed," he said quietly, his tone serious. "Don't make me regret this, Kurt. I'm not talking about sex," he clarified. "I know that you'll do that with or without my blessing. I was a teenager too. But I don't want you to make a habit of seeming all depressed to get Sam to stay or lying to his parents to convince _them_ to let him stay. Understand?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yes. Thank you."

Burt looked at him for a long moment before standing and ruffling his hair. "Carole and I ate before we got home, so you guys can fend for yourselves. Let me know if you guys go anywhere."

"We will," he said simply, and watched his father slowly climb the steps to the second floor.

He exhaled sharply and glanced around in confusion. _Where did Sam go?_ he thought incredulously. He was pretty sure that his excuse of using the restroom was exactly that: an excuse.

He peered down the hall and noticed the bathroom open and the light off. He climbed down the steps and met Sam halfway, the blond boy coming back up to meet him.

He smiled sheepishly at Kurt's knowing look and just back down the stairs. "So, what were you really doing?" he asked.

Sam smiled and shrugged. "Petting Eleanor. Messing around on my phone. I kinda got the feeling your dad wanted to talk to you, so I made myself scarce."

"Well," Kurt said. "You were right. But it wasn't anything bad. Just told me to ask for help if I need it _and_ told me that you could spend the night. If you'd like."

"Really?" Sam asked, taken aback. "Is this some kind of trick?"

Kurt laughed, having had the same thought. "I don't think so," he said. "I think he feels like he needs to reward me for all this wedding stuff."

Sam nodded. "You deserve a reward. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "But if you wanna go, I understand."

Sam looked at him in annoyance. "Kurt. Sweetheart, really, you need to stop thinking that I'm mad at you. It's done, it's over. I'm not mad, I still love you and I would love to stay."

Kurt gave him a weak smile and cuddled in close, tucking his head under Sam's chin and closing his eyes. "He said we could close the door, too," he added softly, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Sam's neck.

"Did he really? Are you sure he hasn't been replaced by a body snatcher?"

That startled a laugh out of Kurt and Sam beamed, glad that the other boy was coming out of his insecure emotional state. The fair boy pulled back and tilted his head up for a kiss. "Do you want to call your parents while I take care of a load of laundry?"

Sam nodded and grappled with his phone while Kurt gathered a load of clothes. "If you want to take a shower, just toss those out and I'll throw them in with mine."

The blond nodded and walked to the en suite bathroom, waiting for one of his parents to pick up the phone. His father answered (finally) and Sam felt a pang of nervousness at asking his father about this. Not because he was worried his father would disapprove, oh no, but because he knew his father would tease him.

"Hey Dad," he said awkwardly. "Um, Mr. Hummel said I could spend the night, if that was okay with you guys. Um, can I?"

As predicted, Robert chuckled wickedly. Surprisingly, he got straight to the point. "Of course you can. You know the deal. Be good, mind your manners, blah blah blah. Text your mother."

Sam laughed in relief, shedding his clothes as he finished his conversation. "I will," he promised.

"Okay, then have fun and say hello to everyone for us."

"'Kay."

"And Sam?" Robert asked, catching him before he hung up the phone.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Do me proud, son."

And _oh my god_ if he meant what Sam thought he meant then he really needed some brain bleach or a convenient witch to _Obliviate_ him.

" _Jesus,_ Dad, bye!"

He hung up to the sound of his father laughing outrageously and tossed his clothes out of the bathroom with a little growl. He could hear Kurt's giggles on the other side of the door and he huffed in exasperation.

"Do I need to tell you how that went?" he asked sourly.

"Maybe after you've had a shower and time to unwind after whatever your dad said. I take it you can stay?"

Sam made an affirmative noise and turned on the shower, adjusting the shower temperature and sighing in relaxation when he stepped into the spacious tub.

Meanwhile, Kurt made his way upstairs and into the laundry room. He could hear the sounds of Finn playing his latest video game obsession (something that sounded very bouncy and cartoon-like) and loaded the washer to the sound of animated springing.

He yawned as he filled the dispenser with fabric softener and closed the lid with a clang. He peeked in on his lanky future sibling and smiled when he noticed the overgrown teen finishing up their Chinese food.

Normally he'd be furious with Finn for doing so without asking, but he found that he was too tired and relieved to care. He was sure that Sam was going to be furious with him, since he'd snapped at him for wanting to help and no fault of his own and he was left weak with relief when that hadn't been the case.

He felt really foolish for snapping. From tale his gal pals had told him, he'd never understood how they could get upset of things that weren't their boyfriend's fault (even though he was totally on their side. Look who they were dating: Finn, Puck, even Mike had his moments). Now that he had he felt like the worst kind of hypocrite.

He sighed and descended the stairs, still hearing the rush of the showerhead from his en suite bathroom. He went to his closet and grabbed something for Sam to change into. Kurt felt a little thrill go through him over the fact that Sam had let enough clothes here that Kurt had to clear off one of his built-in shelves to house them all.

He grabbed some comfortable clothes and knocked on the door to let Sam know he was coming in and placed them on the sink. That being done, and having nothing else to do, he collapsed on top of his straightened sheets. It seems Sam had done a little tidying up while he was down here.

Eleanor jumped on top of his back and proceeded to stretch out over his limp form, tiny paws flexing on his back and pricking him with her needle-like claw. Even though he _just cut them, damn it!_

"Ellie, if you tear my shirt you will never get a catnip ball again," he threatened, even though they both knew it was an empty threat.

He closed his eyes and dimly heard the shower turn off, Sam cursing as a spray of cold water hit him. He chuckled under his breath and maneuvered around so he could lay on his back, settling Ellie onto his stomach and petting her absently.

Finally, Sam emerged from the bathroom amid a cloud of steam and smiled when he spied Kurt flaked out on the bed. He shook his head and slid onto the cool linens next to him. "Sleepy?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Not really. I'm tired, but I'm kind of anxious and I just can get comfortable."

The tanned teen frowned and leaned his head on his folded hands. "Do you want to go out to dinner or something? The movies?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. Then I have to get dressed and stuff."

"No you don't. Just toss on a jacket and go like that," Sam suggested.

The brunette boy shot him a look of disbelief. "You can't be serious. I'm not dressed!"

"Yes, you are!" Sam disagreed. "Look; jeans, undershirt, _and_ regular shirt. All you need is shoes and you are, in fact, dressed."

Kurt huffed because _technically_ Sam was right, but he wasn't _right_. Before he could defend his point, the blond boy kept going.

"We'll go someplace dark, or somewhere no one will recognize you, if that makes you feel better."

Kurt's only response was to roll his eyes. "And just where do you propose we go?"

"A movie in a foreign language. The self-help section of a bookstore. An _unpopular_ movie. Hattie's. You choose."

Kurt sighed. He _did_ want to see that new French movie on the revolution. And it had been a while since they had been to Sam's favorite restaurant. He thought about the events of the day and knew the answer. "Hattie's," he said decisively. "I'm may be in a weird mood, but you have to deal with me."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "We _really_ don't have to go out if you aren't up for it."

Kurt rolled on top of and then over Sam, laughing when the blond boy grabbed at him a moment too late. "I'm sure," he said. "Just let me put on shoes and a sweater and we can go."

Sam nodded and the other boy padded into his closet. He sighed and pawed through his massive collection of cold weather clothes is search of a sweater before he just growled in annoyance and grabbed a sweater that began life as his father's and Kurt had stolen.

It was an old Buckeye's sweatshirt, soft as silk and warmer than anything Kurt had ever bought for himself. Fashion wasn't always practical (or comfortable). He pulled it on over his head and jammed his feet into the first pair of shoes he saw, lacing them tightly.

He walked out of the closet and grinned at Sam tiredly. "Ready to go," he proclaimed, watching Sam tie his own shoes.

The blond smiled happily and ran a hand down his back. Kurt had to suppress another eye roll, figuring that there was only so much sass a sane person can deal with. He knew that the other boy loved it when he "dressed down", for whatever reason (Kurt called it "being a slob", but that was just semantics).

He trotted upstairs and knocked on his father's door to let him know where the two of them were off to, as promised. He met Sam in the hallways and bit his lip. "Should we invite Finn?" he whispered.

The taller teen mimicked his gesture. "Probably, but I don't think he'll want to go. I've been where he is and you get so into the game that nothing else matters. Even things like food and bathroom breaks and sometimes even breathing."

He said the last bit with a faraway look in his eyes and Kurt looked at him incredulously. "Have you seriously forgotten to breathe when playing a video game? Am I going to have to spend my nights worrying when I know you and Blaine and the chaos twins have a video game marathon?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Not me, no. Wes did it once, and it was hilarious. David kept beating him at Wii boxing and for some reason Wes holds his breath when he plays that game."

"Did he win, after all that?"

"No, not even close," Sam remembered. "David slaughtered him."

Kurt's shoulders shook with laughter as he made his way into the living room. "Finn," he called, only to go unanswered. "Finn," he tried again.

Kurt giggled, thinking of all the fun he could have with this. He finally moved near the TV and waved his hand in front on the screen.

"Wha?" Finn managed, bobbing around to see past Kurt's arm.

" _Do you want to go to Hattie's with us_?" he asked slowly.

The tall teen shook his head distractedly. "No thanks," he said. "See you later."

"Well," Kurt said, leading Sam out. "I guess we've been dismissed."

"Don't take it personally," the other boy advised. "At least he didn't threaten to beat you to death with his controller."

"Who said that?" Kurt asked, torn between impressed and shocked at the violence.

Sam tried to speak through his laughter but it took his a few tries. "Blaine, actually. He was on a hot streak in _Halo_ and I tried to sabotage him by blocking the TV."

"Well," Kurt began. "You're alive, so I see he didn't make good on his threat."

The tall boy winked. "Not for lack of trying. He chased me around the room for like, twenty minutes after I made him die."

Kurt gave in and rolled his eyes as they got into Sam's car. "You're all ridiculous."

"Your _face_ is ridiculous," he countered maturely.

"Ouch," Kurt deadpanned. "Ouch."

* * *

Dinner turned out to be just what Kurt needed. Due to the late hour the restaurant was nearly deserted and that suited the two teens just fine.

They chose to sit outside despite the cold weather, but it gave them the excuse to occupy the same side of the bench to huddle together for warmth.

Kurt decided to go all out and ordered the fried chicken and steak fries, served with a liberal heaping of macaroni and cheese and giant cup of barbeque sauce. He enjoyed it so much he did everything but lick the cup clean while Sam smiled on in amusement.

Sam had (surprisingly) opted for the grilled fish and vegetables, making Kurt glare at him playfully as he ate his fried monstrosity. The blonde's healthy choices made him feel guilty, but he was enjoying it too damn much to let it really bother him.

They decided to share a slice of apple pie before going home, not wanting to leave. but needing a reason to stay.

"I'm glad you convinced me to do this," Kurt said, resting his head on Sam's broad shoulder. "I think I needed it."

The fair haired boy hummed in acknowledgment. "I kinda thought you needed to get out of the house. Besides, we'd been cooking all day and I had the feeling you weren't going to be in the mood for a home cooked dinner, for some strange reason."

"'Some strange reason' indeed. I know I've said it a dozen times already, but I am sorry. I just—I thought that it was going to be really easy when I offered. I thought 'How hard could it be?'. They're all supposed to be just one little bite, maybe two. I was obviously mistaken."

Sam shrugged. "Don't worry about it, babe. Any of it. You have a few weeks, and a ton of people to help you. Just relax."

Kurt took a fortifying breath and smiled, giving Sam a nod. "I will," he promised. "Have I told you how glad I am that you can stay the night?"

"You know, I don't think you have."

"I am," Kurt said. "I don't want my memory of this day to be us fighting. I'm _not_ apologizing again," he was quick to clarify, "But I am glad to be able to make it right. So let me get the bill."

The blond just pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I was wondering if you were going to try something like that."

"It's only fair," Kurt needled.

Sam sighed. "Alirght," he relented. "If it will make you feel better."

"It will," he assured, a vaguely smug look on his face.

* * *

They boys arrived back at the Hummel's with coffee for themselves an eggnog frappe for Finn. Kurt knew the taller boy had a soft spot for the seasonal drink and felt he deserved it for being uncharacteristically sensitive and not intruding on their date, video games haze inspired or not.

The lanky teen smiled that goofy smile that had once made Kurt's heart skip a beat and thanked them. Now all Kurt felt was a fond exasperation, having realized that grin was usually reserved for food or the promise of food.

He called up to his father that they were home for the night and retreated into the basement, door blissfully shut.

Kurt made a beeline for the closet and slipped into Sam's stolen Dalton shirt and a teeny pair of shorts, wanting to be comfortable and not caring if his boyfriend got an eyeful, especially with what he had on underneath. He stretched as he walked out and all but threw himself into bed, petting his almost-uncomfortably full belly and making grabby hands for his coffee.

Sam handed it to him with a chuckle before getting up to change into something himself, hands sliding down Kurt's long legs as he walked away from the bed. He saw Ellie jump up next to Kurt right as the disappeared from view in the closet.

He changed into his pajamas and made his way back to bed. He crawled over Kurt to lay behind him, spooning up close and resting his hand on the other boy's stomach. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Mmm," Kurt replied unhelpfully.

Sam smiled and cuddled even closer. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Sounds good," he repeated (said for the first time) and blindly searched for the remote. He found it and jammed the power button, the cable clicking on and showing them the local news channel and weather forecast.

While Kurt browsed the channels Sam paid attention to the meteorologist. "It looks like it might snow around your dad's wedding," he remarked.

"That's okay," the fair boy replied easily. "I'm kind of hoping it does. The Winston House is so pretty when it snows. Besides, only the ceremony is outside, and it's a short one. Carole's dress comes with this faux fur jacket; it's pretty."

Sam hummed in acknowledgment and smiled when the other boy finally settled on _The Princess Bride_. He and Kurt shared a love of all things Mel Brooks and he knew the pale teen had read the novel on a regular basis.

They stayed quiet while they watched the movie, and Sam was certain the slim boy had dozed of more than once during the film. The movie finally ended with Kurt still dozing, and Sam looked around for a clock.

He spied Kurt's alarm and saw that it was barely nine o'clock. He turned off the TV and attempted to disentangle their limbs so he could get the lights and call in an early night.

He made it to the lights without waking Kurt, but the other boy seemed to be awakened by the _click_ of the switch. "Sam?" he called in confusion.

The blond could hear Kurt shifting around on the sheets, clearly searching for him. "Right here," he called softly. "I was just getting the lights."

"Sorry for passing out on you," Kurt replied, sounding decidedly more awake that he had just moments ago.

"You were tired," Sam said. "Do you want me to turn the lights back on?"

There was more shifting and then a soft glow emitted from the small lamp Kurt had on his nightstand. "This is good," he said, settling back down in bed. He patted the space next to him and Sam crawled back into bed.

"What do you want to do tomorrow? Do you have anything you need to take care of? Sam asked, head propped up on a pillow.

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll do some homework tomorrow night, but I just had pans to laze about. Did you have plans to do something?"

"Same," the blond replied.

"Well, that works out nicely," Kurt stated. He rolled onto his side so he could face Sam. He combed his fingers through Sam's hair and down over the bridge of his nose. "C'mere," he whispered, hooking a finger under Sam's chin.

He pressed a kiss to his full lips and Sam was suddenly aware of every place their bodies were touching. He slid a hand up Kurt's leg and under his shorts, fingers playing with the hem of… lace underwear?

Sam pulled back to look at the fair teen. "What's this?" he asked silkily, the callused digits toying with the delicate lace trim of whatever undergarments Kurt was wearing.

"Gag gift from Tina," Kurt replied, kissing a line of fire down Sam's jaw and neck. "They're actually really comfortable."

"That's actually really _hot_ ," the blond enthused, hands itching to rip Kurt's sleep shorts into tiny pieces to get at the naughty sounding under things. "Do you have _more?_ "

Kurt pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him wickedly. "I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

Sam let out a tortured groan rolled on top of the slim boy. He pressed his face into the pale skin of Kurt's neck, feeling his throaty chuckle against his lips. He scrabbled at the other boy's shorts, grunting in success when Kurt finally lifted his hips to help things along. He tossed the flimsy shorts across the room, heedless of where they landed, and stared down at the sight in front of him.

Sam could tell they were from Tina since they were a deep blood-black lace with yet more black eyelash lace around the seams and edges. "Whoa," Sam uttered dazedly, torn between waiting Kurt to wear them forever so he could just stare and wanting to take them off immediately.

He heard Kurt giggle as he sat up, pulling the blond into a kiss, his slender hands roaming under his shirt to caress the firm muscles of Sam's abdomen. He pulled the other boy closer by the fabric of his shirt, making Sam hunch down to meet his lips in another desperate kiss.

The tanned teen rose to his knees and shed his shirt, tossing it onto the bed beside them. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed as he leaned forward to the take the pebbled nub of a nipple into his mouth. Sam's mouth hung open in pleasure and he let his hands come up to tangle in silky brown hair.

He broke the delicious contact to pull Kurt's own shirt over his head, eyes roving over the pale perfection in front of him. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, leaning down to press the other boy into the plush mattress.

Kurt simply gasped as Sam sucked a line of kisses down his chest, pausing at his bellybutton. He swirled his tongue into the tiny dip and nipped at the skin there. With a tiny lick he abandoned his bellybutton and mouthed the quivering flesh of Kurt's navel.

He was loathe to be rid of the tantalizing panties but needed to of he was going to get at what was underneath; something that was even more tempting. He peeled the scanty slip of fabric down Kurt's shapely legs and dropped them near the fair teen's hip, leaving them in sight.

He encouraged Kurt to bend a leg, resting his foot flat on the bed. He kissed the ticklish skin of his inner thigh until he reached the junction of leg and pelvis, licking at the sensitive flesh before blowing cool air, making gooseflesh rise in its wake.

"Sam," Kurt pleaded, fingers spearing into his blond locks and urging his where he needed him most.

The tanned boy took the stiff length of his manhood into his mouth, sinking down over Kurt until he could go no further. His nose brushed the bare skin around the base of his erection and he hummed softly before pulling up slowly, only to slide back down again.

He set a slow rhythm that had Kurt tearing at the sheets and yanking Sam's hair fretfully as he whimpered for more. "Please," he begged. "Please."

With one last lick to the engorged head, Sam pulled back and leaned over to rustle in the nightstand for what they needed. He snagged a condom and a half-empty bottle of lube before shuffling back to Kurt's panting form.

"Um," Sam began, remembering their conversation from earlier. "Do _you_ want to this time?"

"No," Kurt breathed desperately. "No no. Not this time, please."

Sam merely nodded and flipped the cap open, pouring a generous amount of the slick stuff on his fingers. He went straight to it, slipping a finger inside the other boy with little preamble, both wanting it so desperately the time for teasing had passed.

Kurt buried his face into his pillow, biting his lips to stifle the loud whines that were threatening to spill from his lips. While his father hadn't forbid it, he was pretty sure (absolutely certain) that Sam wouldn't live to see another day if Burt Hummel walked in on him getting to know his son in the most biblical sense.

He arched his back and he felt pressing the thick knot of three fingers inside him, a mewling cry escaping from his parched throat. After a few cursory thrusts, Kurt's shifted against the bed restlessly. "Enough," he panted.

Surprisingly, Sam nodded and began tearing at the foil packet, cursing when he ripped the latex sheath in his haste. Kurt huffed in annoyance at the delay but spread himself on the sheets, legs falling open wantonly. "Hurry," he urged, fingers trailing down his stomach to press two inside himself.

The taller boy groaned at the sight and fumbled with the contraceptive, rolling it on and slicking up in record time. He shifted forward and draped Kurt's long legs over his thighs, the boy resting in the cradle of his hips.

Kurt groaned lowly when the thick shaft split him open, feelings his toes curl at the impossible slide. "Yes," he breathed. "C'mon."

Sam dropped forward and braced his hands on either side of Kurt's head. Every few thrusts he added a gritty circle of his hips, making him rub against that place the made Kurt convulse with bliss. "More," he begged softly.

The blond grit his teeth and pounded into the other boy, the muted slapping of their skin filling Sam's ears. He huffed desperately, dangling right on the edge of orgasm but not able to reach the peak. He pulled put, drawing a tortured whimper from Kurt.

"What—?"

"Turn over," he pleaded roughly. "On your stomach."

Kurt nodded eagerly and flipped onto his stomach, rising onto his knees while he clutched the pillow to his chest. The material was damp against his fevered cheek and his back bowed as he felt Sam press deep inside him once more, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper.

He buried his face into the pillow and moaned from his toes. He forced a hand away from its iron grip on the cushion and encircled his own length. He stroked himself feverishly, in time to Sam's thrusts, his breath coming in raspy gasps.

He felt himself teetering over the edge, holding his breath in his desperation to get it just right and finally fall off the precipice. His mouth fell open in a silent scream as his release hit him like a ton of bricks. He distantly heard Sam groan as he tightened around him excruciatingly, fingers digging into his hips hard enough that he was sure he was going to have evidence of this night on his skin for days to come.

Sam's hips slammed into his one last time before slumping over his back and pressing a steamy kiss to the nape of his neck Kurt shivered as he felt Sam's teeth graze his skin, the blunt scrape making his aftershocks of pleasure spike drastically.

The blond couldn't stop the reflexive thrusts of his hips, making Kurt whimper and mewl as the shocks of ecstasy turned sharp. He shifted forward in discomfort and heard same mumble apologetically behind him.

He hissed when Sam pulled out, his knees giving out and collapsing against the bed, careful to turn on his side to avoid spreading the mess of come on his stomach and hand all over the sheets.

Sam's hands roamed over his body and he kissed at any skin he could reach. He finally got up to dispose of the condom and grab a cool cloth to clean them up with.

Kurt sighed in contentment as Sam dragged the cool cloth over his feverish skin, smiling at the other boy lazily. The tall teen lobbed the cloth in the general direction of the laundry bin and slid into bed next to Kurt, encouraging him to cuddle close and rest his head on his shoulder after they had slipped back into their pajamas.

You could never be sure when Burt might creep down to check on his son, and being found naked in his bed was not a way to curry favor with any father. He was distracted from this train of thought by sprawling patterns being drawn over his skin.

"Love you," he heard the fair boy murmur as he stroked lazy shapes over his chest with a petal soft finger.

"I love you, too," Sam whispered. Then, "Now go to sleep. You're going to need the energy for when you show me the rest of your underwear collection."


	31. Uncertainty

The big day was less than a week away. Kurt's father was going to be walking down the aisle one last time and the fair teen was pretty sure he was more nervous that either of the parties that would be taking the plunge.

With the help of his friends and a liberal splashing of luck, he had managed to get everything taken care of. All that was left to make was the wedding cake—arguably the most important part of the entire affair (you know, aside from the vows)—and he wasn't the least bit concerned about it.

Cake, he knew. Kurt just wasn't so sure about everything else. The venue might lose their minds and mess up the decorating scheme or Carole's wedding dress might tear en route to the aisle, or one _million_ other different scenarios, but their cake wasn't giving him any worry.

He was willing to admit that he was hell to be around for the last few weeks. He considered himself lucky that his friends were still talking to him and Sam—wonderful, patient, perfect, Sam—deserved an award and a parade and _maybe_ quite a few sexual favors.

The blond teen had been a pillar of strength for Kurt during this most trying of times and had barely (ish) batted an eyelash at any of his inane requests or outraged ramblings.

Kurt loved Carole, and he didn't want to downplay his father's happiness or this day's importance, but he was going to be so happy when all of this was over. Turns out, he isn't as suited to planning weddings as he originally thought.

No, the only other wedding he was going to plan was his own. If he didn't make it in the pastry business he was just going to have to find _another_ alternative career path.

Speaking of baking, Kurt had amazing news. He grabbed his phone and dialed Sam's number, flopping back onto his bed while he waited for the tanned boy to answer. He glanced at the clock as he waited and bit his lip.

It was barely six o'clock on a Monday, and the other teen might still be at football practice. When it went to voicemail, Kurt decided that was the case. Instead of leaving a voicemail, he sent the boy a quick text.

_Call me when you get home! I have something to tell you :)_

He reached for the novel they were studying in class, _Moby Dick_ , and thumbed through the pages as he waited for the other boy to return his call.

He absentmindedly ran his fingers down Eleanor's back, smiling as her rumbling purr made the tips of his fingers tickle. He had barely finished two chapters when the other boy called him back.

" _Hey!"_ the other boy greeted. _"What's up?"_

"Are you already home?" Kurt asked, looking at the clock skeptically.

" _Uh_ , _"_ he hesitated, telling Kurt all he needed to know. He did not approve of talking while driving.

"Mhmm," Kurt hummed archly. "I'll let it go this time, only because I really want to tell you."

" _Tell me what? I'm guessing it's good from your little smiley face."_

Kurt made an affirmative noise. "It is. Um, remember the place I was telling you about, the bakery that was hiring?"

" _Yeah,"_ Sam replied, voice hopeful.

"Well, I gave them my application and they invited me for the 'audition' this afternoon and they offered me the job!"

" _Awesome!"_ Sam enthused. _"Congratulations! I knew they would hire you."_

Kurt chuckled softly, "Thanks, sweetheart."

" _Did they tell you what you're going to be doing?"_

"Yeah," he replied. "Um, they know that I am going to go to college or pastry school at the end of the school year, so they offered to make it like an internship; a paid internship. At the end of school, they'll write me a really stellar letter of recommendation."

" _That's great!"_ Sam said happily, the sound of the engine buzzing in Kurt's ear. _"We should do something to celebrate. Before the wedding, to take your mind off everything."_

Kurt hummed again. "Sounds good. I know I've been, um, difficult to be around. "

" _Hey,"_ Sam cooed. _"Don't even. I told you that it was fine. If I didn't want to be there, I wouldn't. So, just think about what you want to do, and tell me tomorrow."_

"'Kay. I'll think about it."

There was an awkward pause. All this talk of "when school ends" and "after graduation" was kind of a nerve wracking topic. Neither of them had really breached the topic on what was going to become of them once school had ended and they may have to separate, distance wise, to pursue their separate career paths.

" _Well,"_ Sam said, segueing into another topic. _"I'm almost to the grocery store. My mom asked me to pick something up for dinner. I'll talk to you later?"_

"Of course. Love you."

" _I love you, too."_

Kurt hung up with a sigh, his earlier good mood deflating. What _was_ going to happen at the end of the year?

He knew that Sam wanted to go into engineering, and had talked of a few different schools he'd like to attend. Only one of them was in Ohio.

Kurt was still debating on whether or not he wanted to go straight into culinary school, or if he wanted to get some kind of business degree, something to fall back on. He really wanted to own his own bakery or café one day, and he wasn't sure exactly how to go about it.

This still left a lot of questions unanswered. He sighed deeply and swept _Moby Dick_ off the bed, listening to it fall to the floor with a satisfying _whump_. He pulled his netbook from underneath his bed and opened the web browser.

He had some research to do.

* * *

Sam pulled into school the next day feeling very much like Kurt had. He knew that there were _months_ before either of them had to think of saying goodbye, but he was getting pressure all around to send his applications out to all the universities he had considered attending.

He was lucky; his parents weren't trying to influence/guilt/bribe/threaten him into attending any one college. He knew that his father had a soft spot for Ole Miss, his alma mater, but he wasn't trying to make Sam go there on pain of death of disinheritance.

Truthfully, Sam really wanted to go somewhere that wasn't _here_. He had been looking forward to attending an out of state university for so long that it felt strange to suddenly feel dread at the prospect of going to NYU or Berkeley.

He knew that it was a big faux-pas to rearrange your life around your significant other, especially at this age, but he felt anxious and depressed when he imagined not seeing Kurt for weeks on end. He heaved a resigned sigh. As soon as this wedding madness was over, the two of them were going to have to sit down to have a serious talk.

He didn't doubt their ability to maintain a long distance relationship; he just _really_ didn't want to have one. Just the thought of it put him in a cold sweat.

Sam had gotten the same vibe from Kurt, but he knew that they both needed to get all their cards out on the table. He sighed one last time and forced himself out of his car as the other teen's Lincoln pulled in next to him.

He shook his head at the giant SUV and leaned against the trunk of his Camaro, gingerbread latte in hand. He held the frothy beverage out to Kurt and the other boy beamed at him.

"Thanks," he gushed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking a reverent sip of his latte.

Sam winked. "You're welcome," he began. Then, "So, did you decide what you want to do?"

Kurt groaned and leant against the trunk next to Sam. "I don't _know_ ," he complained. "Why don't you surprise me?"

"Because _I_ don't know either," he laughed.

"We don't _have_ to do anything," Kurt replied. "I'd be just as content to just stay at home with you."

Sam scoffed. "But this is such a big deal," he emphasized. "Why don't—why don't you let me cook for you!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Sam replied, feeling more confident. "You always cook for me, and you've been so busy cooking for other people, why don't you come over this weekend and have dinner with me?"

Kurt nodded and found himself beaming at the other boy. "You parents too?"

"Not this time," Sam said. "My mom's birthday is in early December, but she's going to be in New York again; for business. My dad got her some fancy, romantic theatre/spa thing and they're going up on Friday."

"Well, as long as your parents are okay with it…"

"Please," Sam interrupted. "My mother worships you and my dad loves you just based on the fact that you and he can talk about cars, not to mention ten thousand other things. If anything, they'll be jealous they missed it."

"Alright then. It's a date."

Sam grinned. "Awesome." His smile turned a little sheepish. "Just…don't make fun of me if dinner totally sucks and we have to get take out."

"I won't," the fair teen promised. He pressed a kiss to Sam's lips just as Blaine's Mercedes pulled into the lot, Puck not far behind him. "I have to run to the library and copy some sheet music for glee. See you later?"

Sam nodded. "Of course, baby. Love you."

"Love you too." Kurt squeezed his hand one last time before making his way to McKinley's least populated building.

Sam sighed as soon as the other boy was out of sight. _Shit_ , he thought frantically. _How am I going to learn to cook, like, two days?_

Him and his big mouth.

* * *

Sam spent every minute of free time he had over the next few days scouring the internet for a dinner menu that he could _possibly_ pull off. Thursday night he finally gave in and begged his mother for help.

The begging was unnecessary, but he was that desperate. Patricia was only too happy to help him devise a special, yet simple, menu for the evening. Sam and his mother knew that, despite Kurt's dedication to rabbit food, he was in _love_ with pasta—something that would be very difficult for the other teen to mess up.

His mother left him a recipe and super detailed instructions to make seafood fra diavolo (a spicy red sauce) with a nice salad and some homemade garlic bread. For dessert he'd try his hand at crème brûlée—honestly, he just wanted to use the tiny hand torch his mom had—and some cappuccino.

Sam got the irony of understanding how to operate their ridiculously complicated cappuccino/espresso machine but not how to cook for his boyfriend, but up until now his priorities had been video games and caffeine.

Now it was Friday afternoon and he was on the way to the seafood market in town, list of ingredients in hand. He had a few hours before Kurt was expected at his house and his nerves were really starting to kick in.

He really wanted to get this right. Kurt was so competent in the kitchen and he didn't want to look like some inept idiot that relied on his mother (and wonderful boyfriend) to eat. Besides, it was supposed to be a _celebration_ and there wasn't going to be much celebrating if Sam somehow managed to set his kitchen on fire.

He pulled into the market and got out, pulling his jacket tighter around him. It had really started to get cold these past few days and, judging from the sky, it looked there was going to be some rain on top of it. Or snow, but rain seemed more likely with the dampness in the air.

There was no line when he entered the _Land and Sea_ market so he stepped right up to the counter. A surprisingly young looking girl stepped up to the counter, beaming despite the red stains on her apron that made Sam's stomach clench in a worrisome way.

"Can I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

Sam looked at her nametag (Jess) and grinned uncertainly. "Um," he began. "I'm cooking dinner tonight and I need some seafood, but I'm a little lost. I didn't realize there was more than one kind of clam or shrimp."

She nodded in understanding and surveyed their selection. "Well, why don't you tell me what you're making and what you need and I'll see if I can help you out?"

He explained his predicament and soon he was loaded down with more mussels and clams and squid and every other many of sea critter than he could imagine. He hoped Kurt liked all this stuff, because he didn't even know what the hell scungilli _were_.

Sam waved to Jess, a serious lifesaver, and made his way to the door. Sam groaned; he had been right about it raining. Why he never grabbed an umbrella, he would never understand.

He took a deep breath before darting out into the cold spray, breath catching in his throat at the freezing onslaught. He sprinted to his car and threw himself in the driver's seat, shivering. He tossed the bag of seafood on the passenger seat and jammed the key into the ignition, turning the heat to high.

He held his hands in front of the vents for a moment, sighing in bliss, before he began to make the way back home. As he drove passed Kurt's part of town he smiled. Even though he was nervous about tonight, he was excited too.

Kurt had gotten permission from his father to spend the night as Sam's house, even though his parents were going to be gone. The blond boy was almost going to miss the frantic weeks before the wedding, since it had afforded he and Kurt a lot of liberties he didn't think that they would have had otherwise.

He drove carefully through the rain and frowned at the thought of the other boy coming to his house in this weather. Well, at least his car was more suited to this than his sports car. He'd be glad when he got home, even though he'd have to run up the driveway and stairs in the rain.

He finally pulled into his long drive, nearly thirty minutes later than he'd expected. He really hated to have lost that time in a drive, valuable time he could have spent making sure he didn't mess up, but he wasn't willing to risk losing control of the car.

He ran to the front door and nearly collided with Blaine as he was on his way out. "Oh, sorry," the dark haired boy apologized.

Sam shrugged it off. "Where are you off to?"

"Puck invited me to his family's traditional Friday dinner thing; eating Chinese food and watching _Schindler's List_."

Sam chuckled. "Well, you have fun with that. I know how much you love that movie."

Blaine grimaced. Sam knew that Blaine _hated_ that movie. The last time they had caught it on TV the shorter teen had spent the better part of two hours _crying_. Well, if anything, his reaction would win big points with Mrs. Puckerman.

"I'll try. Good luck with the chef thing," Blaine replied, gesturing to his arms full of groceries. "I'm sure Kurt will love it, no matter what."

They nodded at one another once more before Blaine opened his umbrella and carefully picked his way down to his car. Well, Sam always knew that the dark haired teen was always the more prepared one. And logical. And practical.

This wasn't a very flattering train of thought.

He shook his head and stepped inside, shutting the door with his foot. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and stowed tonight's dinner fixings in the fridge before rushing upstairs to change into something that was not only appropriate for cooking, but dry.

He slid into some red basketball shorts and a black shirt, knowing that he was going to get so much tomato sauce on his clothes it wasn't worth it to wear any other color. Sam descended the steps and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the recipe to look it over once more before he began.

He soon got to work chopping and sautéing in preparation for the sauce, glancing at the clock anxiously. He had about an hour and a half until Kurt was due to arrive. Luckily, the seafood and pasta didn't take that long, and he had made the crème brûlée the night before, under the supervision of his mother.

Keeping the menu a secret from Kurt had been more difficult that he thought. The fair teen is the worst with surprises—always wanting to know, even though he gets mad when he spoils it for himself. He could envision Kurt as a little boy, searching for hidden Christmas presents and pouting after he'd discovered them because he'd ruined the surprise.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as he finally added the rest of the ingredients for the sauce, stirring carefully and tasting to make sure it wasn't too spicy. He knew it was supposed to simmer for a while so he washed his hands thoroughly and made sure he wasn't going to rub sauce all over the place when he set the table.

His mother had let him use the good (and very dark) linens for the occasion, which was kind of better since the dark colors matched their outside décor better. He spread the cloth over the table and smoothed it out with his hands.

He grabbed the plates from the china cabinet, as well as the good silver, and carefully laid down two place settings. The table felt too empty so Sam found some tea lights to put in the holders that had never been used. They were metal, with intricate patterns carved in them, designed to throw the ornate candlelight against their skin and walls.

He worried his bottom lip and stared at the table, still feeling like it was missing something. He snapped his fingers and ran downstairs, glad that it had stopped raining or his impulsive action would soaked him once more.

He sprinted into the garden and snagged his mom's pruning scissors. He quickly clipped a few white roses from the bush and ran back upstairs. He was panting as he made it to the kitchen, filling a small, squat vase with water and arranging the blossom inside.

He heaved a massive sigh, leaning over to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath. He chuckled breathlessly and ambled into the kitchen.

He filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, turning on the burning and listening to the clicking of the gas. He began pulling out the seafood, hoping that his timing wasn't going to ruin the entire meal. He added the seafood in the order specified, waiting the indicated time in between each addition.

While he waited for the pasta and seafood to cook he threw together the salad, making sure to adds tons of fennel. He went for a Mediterranean style salad, filled with kalamata olives and feta cheese and a tangy vinaigrette; a personal favorite of Kurt's.

Then it was time for garlic bread, thankfully an easy task for his frazzled nerves. This cooking thing was more stressful than Kurt let on. He was starting to understand why Kurt got so upset that day they were cooking hors d'oeuvres.

And he still had to change! And set the table! Sam was going to lose his mind. He hoped against hope that, for once, Kurt would be _late_. The fair teen was always a few minutes early, and that really wasn't going to work with his timeline because if Kurt got here before he was done the other boy would insist on helping and the _just wasn't an option._

The timer went off, signaling the pasta was done, and he quickly drained it before tossing it in with the sauce and seafood. He checked the garlic bread and lowered the heat, huffing out a breath and looking at the clock.

 _Fuck on a stick!_ Sam swore mentally. _He's going to be here ANY SECOND._

He dashed up the steps, whipping off his clothes as he went. He stumbled into his room and tripped over R2-D2. "Shit!" he swore, rubbing at his skinned knee.

He skidded into the bathroom and ran a wet brush through his hair, giving himself a quick thumbs up before rushing back into his room. He pulled on his jeans, the ones he bought with Kurt the last time they went to the mall. They were tighter than he was used to, but the appreciative look in Kurt's eyes was worth the minor discomfort.

Next was a burgundy v-neck with three-quarter length sleeves, another purchase made with Kurt. Apparently "the color contrasted nicely with his skin" or something. Sam just thought it looked like red wine his mother loved so much, but bought it anyway.

He jammed his feet into some leather slip-ons and made his way downstairs. He peeked out the window nervously and heaved a sigh of relief when the driveway was Navigator free.

He scurried back into the kitchen and quickly (but neatly) moved the pasta to a fancy bowl, covering it with foil to keep it warm. He placed it on the table with the salad and was getting the bread out of the oven when the doorbell rang.

He quickly yanked the bread out and upended it into a basket, tossing the cloth corners over the bread to keep it from getting cold and hard. He hustled to the door and struggled with the lock before finally managing to get it open.

Kurt was standing on the other side, overnight bag on his shoulder, and smiling in amusement. "Having a little trouble there?"

Sam puffed out a breath. "Not at all," he lied smoothly. "C'mon. I just finished dinner."

Kurt's eyes shone happily and he followed Sam through the living room. He tossed his overnight bag onto the couch and made his way to the veranda as the blond teen disappeared into the kitchen, sniffing the air in intrigue.

He took in the surprisingly elegant table setting and inhaled deeply. It smelled wonderful and Kurt was not only impressed, but touched beyond measure.

Sam appeared on the veranda once more, placing a bread basket on the table, and pulling the shorter teen into an embrace. "You did all this?" Kurt asked.

The other teen nodded. "Uh-huh. My mom supervised dessert and gave me advice, but I cooked it, I hope it all came out okay."

"Well, it smells _amazing_ ," he complimented. "And it looks great. Thank you, Samuel, really."

Sam blushed and shrugged as Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. There was a slight breeze and he felt Kurt shiver. "Want me to start a fire really quick?" he asked, gesturing to the chimenea.

"If you don't mind…"

"Nope—it'll just take a minute. Why don't you run inside and grab the blanket on the couch to keep you warm until the fire gets going?"

Kurt nodded and flitted inside, snagging the woven blanket off the couch. He ran his fingers through the soft tassels before wrapping it around his shoulders with a grateful sigh. He walked back out onto the deck and sat where Sam bid him, smiling up at the attractive teen. "I love you," he breathed.

Sam looked up from where he was kneeling and beamed at him. "I love you too, baby." He turned back to the chimenea and struck a match and a soft, warm glow began to emit from the open mouth of the cast iron fireplace.

The fair haired teen took his place next to Kurt and took the foil off the pasta. The brunette boy licked his lips in anticipation. "That looks really good," he said, mouth watering.

Sam grinned anxiously, hoping it tasted just as good. "Thanks."

Kurt held out his dish and let Sam serve him a heaping portion of pasta and salad. The slim teen raised an eyebrow at the massive share, but said nothing.

"Eat up," Sam said, pouring Kurt some sparkling water.

The fair boy rolled the pasta on his fork and popped it into his mouth. "Mmm," he hummed appreciatively. "This is really good. I think I'll let you cook from now on," he teased.

"Oh god," Sam whined. "This was so stressful; I don't know how you do it. Next time I cook for you, it's going to be something less important so I don't freak out about ruining something special."

Kurt clucked sympathetically. "Honey, you know you didn't have to do anything."

"I know," he said, softer now. "I'm just whining. I wanted to do this for you. You just make it look so easy."

The thin boy just winked and went back to his delicious dinner. The chatted lightly over Sam's wonderfully prepared meal and Kurt found himself surprised when he not only finished what Sam had served him, but gone back for seconds.

"You'll have to give me this recipe," he admitted. "Carole loves seafood too. I'll make it for her one night when Finn and my dad go to some sports thing."

Sam nodded enthusiastically, glad he was able to pull this off. "Of course."

Kurt finally pushed his plate away from him, leaning back in the chair and rubbing at his overly full tummy in satisfaction. Sam grinned and grabbed their plates, pressing Kurt back down in his seat. "I told you, I'm doing this for you tonight. Let me get it."

Kurt flushed happily and snuggled back into the warmth of the blanket. "All right,"

He quickly cleared the table and warmed up the cappuccino machine before coming back outside. "Want to sit by the fire before dessert?"

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "I'm so full right now. And so warm. And lazy. Carry me?"

He held his arms out jokingly but Sam scooped him up nonetheless. "Sam!" he cried out in surprise. "Put me down, I was kidding!"

"Too late," Sam said, carrying him over to the furniture near the chimenea and depositing him on the plush seat gently. He sat next to the other boy and pulled him in close.

Kurt giggled and allowed himself to be pulled to Sam's chest. He cuddled into the warm embrace and sighed in contentment.

They sat by the crackling fire and breathed in the smoky smell of the wood. Kurt stared into the flames, hypnotized, until Sam shifted underneath him.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled. "My leg was falling asleep."

Kurt just murmured nonsensically and pressed a lingering kiss to Sam's collarbone. "Are _you_ falling asleep on me?" Sam asked lightly.

"Kinda," the fair teen croaked, trying to force his eyes open. "So comfy."

Sam sat up, taking Kurt with him. "Up," he said lightly. "I'm making cappuccino to go with our dessert. That'll help wake you up."

"You made me dessert?" he asked, forgetting that Sam had mentioned it earlier in his sleepy state.

"Yup. Stay put, I'll be right back."

Kurt nodded in an unconvincing way, already cuddling into the cushions of the couch. Sam rolled his eyes fondly and trotted into the kitchen. The dessert tray was already assembled and he just had to add the crème brûléeand coffee.

He fixed the tray, made sure he had the little dessert torch, and made his way to the veranda. Surprisingly, Kurt was sitting up and blinking owlishly when Sam arrived. He looked at the tray in interest when Sam neared.

"Did you make me crème brûlée?" he asked incredulously.

Sam nodded bashfully. "Uh, yeah. I hope so, at least—first time making it."

He placed the tray on the low lying glass table and sprinkled sugar over the tops of the creamy desserts. He lit the kitchen torch and breathed out deeply before running it over the tops of the desserts.

He grinned in relief when they browned as expected, Sam finally feeling a little tingle of pride at his accomplishments. He clicked the torch off and let Kurt's choose which dessert to grab. Predictably, he went for the one that Sam had browned a bit more, knowing that the fair teen liked the crunchy topping.

"I must say," Kurt began before biting into his treat. "I'm really impressed with you. This is all so amazing and so much more than I expected. I'm—I'm really glad to be with you."

Sam grinned breathlessly and leaned forward, catching Kurt's lips in a brief but passionate kiss. "I'm really glad you looked passed my nerdy exterior only to realize there was an even nerdier person on the inside, but went for it anyway," he teased in an effort to lighten the mood. He could already see Kurt's eyes shining and he knew the other boy would be embarrassed if he cried, even though Sam found his little outbursts of emotion endearing.

It worked and Kurt giggled, high and happy, tweaking his nose before leaning back and weaseling his chilly toes under Sam's thigh.

He took a bite of the rich custard and closed his eyes in delight. "So good," he managed, pulling the blond boy forward by his shirt and sharing a sugary kiss with him. "I'm keeping you." _Forever_ , he thought.

Sam's heart fluttered and he just grinned, taking another bite of his dessert. Kurt finished his dessert regretfully and allowed himself to run his finger along the bottom of the dish, cleaning it with his fingers. Not the best manners, but such things went out the window when Kurt was faced with such a dessert as this.

He reluctantly placed his empty dish on the tray and picked up his cappuccino, stretching out over the bench and settling his feet in Sam's lap. "This okay?" he asked.

Sam nodded around his spoon and finished his own dessert, wrapping a hand around Kurt's ankle and rubbing idly. They sat in silence and listened to the fire crackle and the wind blow. He loved the quiet at the Evans' house. Kurt lived in one of the nicer parts of town, but there was still the noise of a suburban neighborhood at all times.

Eventually, the fire started to die down and Kurt began to shiver once more. "Inside," Sam commanded gently. "Don't want you to get sick before the wedding."

The countertenor nodded emphatically and went inside without a word. Sam extinguished the fire and grabbed the tray, shutting the sliding glass door behind him. He brought the tray into the kitchen and swiftly loaded everything into the dishwasher before turning it on.

He looked around and nodded decisively before joining Kurt in the cozy sitting room. The slender teen looked up from the text he was sending to grin at him. "My dad," he explained. "He says he was watching the weather and saw that there was going to be a wind advisory and just wanted to let us know. You know, in case we decided to go on a boat or something."

Sam nodded with a chuckle. "Duly noted."

Kurt shivered once more. Sam chuckled. "Want me to start up the fireplace in here?" he asked. The fair boy grinned at Sam sheepishly and nodded.

"Change into your pj's and I'll get the fire going and grab some blankets. We can chill in front of the fire and watch a movie or something."

The slim boy nodded emphatically. He pulled off his clothes right there and Sam leered at him exaggeratedly before messing with the fireplace.

Kurt fingers shook as he yanked on his pajamas. He'd thought ahead to the rapidly cooling temperatures of Ohio and brought warm, thick pajamas. The decadent cashmere top and thermal bottoms might have been a bit much, but he was known for getting a chill.

Sam was right; he couldn't afford to get sick right now.

He sighed in happiness as he saw that Sam had managed to get the fire going. "I'm impressed with your fire skills. Between that and my knowledge of edible plants, I now feel confident that we could survive the night stranded in the wilderness."

"I _have_ been watching _Dual Survival_ a lot," he admitted. "But my dad taught me. We used to go camping all the time."

Kurt just made a noncommittal sound and dove in front of the slowly warming fireplace. "Go change," he commanded lightly. "And bring me another blanket. And snuggle me."

Sam chuckled before giving him a mocking salute. "Yes, sir!"

The fair teen just rolled his eyes before huddling against the floor, stretching his frostbitten toes towards the fire. Sam quickly made his way up to his room and changed into his own warm pajamas, scooping up R2 from his place under the entertainment center.

He held the dog in one arm while he tossed pillows and blankets over the railing of the stairs, laughing when they landed on Kurt, obscuring him from view. He finally made his way back to the living room, chuckling harder when he saw that the other boy hadn't even tried to disentangle himself.

Sam dug through the linen mess until he found the now-messy head of his boyfriend and plopped R2-D2 on top of him. Kurt chuckled and cuddled the maybe-growing pup close. "How much bigger is he going to get?"

The fair haired teen shrugged. "Not very. My mom took him to the vet a week or so ago and they said he should stop growing around Christmas."

"You're so little," he cooed to the grey pup. "So teeny tiny."

"He's fat," Sam deadpanned, rubbing his hand over the tiny potbelly.

"No!" Kurt said, outraged, covering the Frenchie's ears. "Don't listen to him, R2. You're just perfect."

The flaxen haired boy rolled his eyes but said nothing more about it. "Do you want me to put in a movie?" he asked, pointing the flat screen across the room.

Kurt nodded. "Yes, please."

Sam walked over to their massive DVD collection and stared blankly before turning back to the other boy. "Okay, you gotta give me a hint. What do you want to watch?"

Kurt worried his lip and absently petted R2. "Something classic."

"Really helpful," Sam chortled, looking back at the movies. "Blaine brought over a bunch of Audrey Hepburn stuff and like, things in black and white."

Kurt looked hopefully. "Does he have the original _King Kong_?"

Sam scanned the vast collection of movies and was surprised when he spotted it. "Yes, surprisingly. I think this is actually my dad's. He loves old 'monster' movies."

Kurt stretched like a contented cat and burrowed further into the blankets on the floor, fire warming him nicely.

Sam chuckled at his antics and popped the movie into the player before snagging the remotes and cuddling up behind Kurt.

"Have you ever seen this?"

"Uh-uh," Sam replied. "I saw the new one though, by Peter Jackson."

Kurt just made an unintelligible noise and scooted back so they were pressed together more firmly. The opening credits rolled and soon they were both drawn into the movies. The blond couldn't help but laugh at some of the "special effects", earning himself a stern look or two.

Eventually, the movie came to a close and Sam could hear the tenderhearted boy sniffling forlornly. "It's so sad," he mourned.

The blond nodded in agreement and peppered soft kissed along Kurt's neck and ears, making him shiver. His feelings abruptly shifted from morose to frisky. "So, um, I did some thinking," he murmured.

"Yeah?"

"About what we talked about. You know, me… being on top?"

Sam was all ears. "And?"

"You know…"

"Nope, I don't have a clue," Sam replied densely.

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

He nodded. "You betcha."

Kurt cleared his throat awkwardly. "I would like to… try things that way." _Well_ , Kurt thought in embarrassment. _That will just have to do. I really hope Sam doesn't reveal he's into dirty talk, because it's just not going to happen._

Sam pressed a steamy kiss to Kurt's neck. "All right."

The fair teen rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that rousing encouragement."

The blond chuckled as he flopped onto his back. He muscled Kurt around until he was facing him and pulled the slender teen on top of him. "How's this?"

"What? Here?" Kurt sputtered.

"No, on the moon. Yes, here! We have the place to ourselves and this is pretty darn romantic, if I do say so myself."

He gestured to the fire and the bed of blankets, running a hand down his arm soothingly.

"Sorry," Kurt breathed, straddling Sam's waist and cuddling into him. He tucked his head under Sam's chin. "I'm just nervous."

Sam pulled back to look at the other boy incredulously. "What are you nervous about? Don't be ridiculous."

Kurt sighed and rolled off the tanned boy. "Maybe next time. I just—nevermind."

"Hey," Sam cooed, pulling the other boy close. "Don't be like that. Tell me."

Kurt took a deep breath. "I just—I just feel really nervous and not sexy and...," he shrugged. "I don't know."

"We don't have to," Sam said. "I don't want to you to be uncomfortable. But you _don't_ have to be worried, sweetheart."

"I know," Kurt said softly. "I don't know why. I didn't feel like this earlier."

"You were thinking about this earlier?" the other boy asked with a leer.

The fair boy rolled his eyes. "Yes, creeper. I told you I was going to think about it, and you're right, this is really romantic so it _may_ have crossed my mind when we were watching the movie. So, yeah, I don't know but now I feel bad. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Sam sighed. "Sweetheart…"

Kurt bopped him on the nose with his forefinger, still avoiding his eyes. "Yes?"

He clucked his tongue. "C'mere."

Kurt pouted and cuddled closer, tilting his face up for a kiss. Sam was more than happy to oblige, licking into the fair teen's mouth and deepening the kiss.

They traded kisses back and forth until Sam could feel the tension singing throughout Kurt's body snap as he relaxed into his embrace. Still, relaxed didn't mean comfortable.

"We can go upstairs, if it would make you feel more comfortable," he offered, nipping at the tender skin under Kurt's jaw.

"Not necessary," Kurt panted, hand snaking up the front of Sam's shirt. The blond chuckled and rolled onto his back once more, raising his arms when to help Kurt remove the soft garment.

The fair teen peeled off his own shirt, surprising Sam when he also stripped off his pants and straddled his waist.

"Did you change your mind?" he asked in amusement, laugh tapering off to a gasp as talented lips found his nipple. "'Cause I could be okay with that."

"I haven't decided yet," Kurt replied, mouth pressed to Sam's chest.

Sam growled lowly and the two teens rolled around heatedly until Kurt suddenly pulled away with a yelp, kicking about and making the blankets fly every which way. "What is it?" the blond asked nervously.

"I burned my feet!" Kurt whined. " _Ow_."

The fair teen's face was scrunched up into an adorable pout but the mood was irreparably lost. Sam cooed over the injured appendage and pressed a smacking kiss to his socked foot before rolling them so Kurt was facing away from the fire.

Kurt pulled off his socks, now missing bits near the toe where they had caught fire, and frowned forlornly until Sam snatched his bag from the couch and slipped new socks on him.

He sighed. _Cockblocked._

* * *

Though Kurt would have loved to spend Saturday lazing around the fire with Sam, he had wedding preparations to take care of and a cake to make.

He was going to the wedding venue to make sure the Bridal Suite was decorated to his specifications and making sure that there were no unwanted surprises. He woke and dressed without even rousing Sam from his slumber.

They had moved up to his room last night when they heard Blaine's car pull into the driveway. Puck had accompanied him back and it seemed like the other couple would like to spend a little private time in front of the fire.

Sam and he had gathered the blankets that were from his room and Kurt's belongings and holed themselves up in the boy's bedroom. Kurt always loved Sam's room because it showed a side of his personality that Kurt rarely ever saw.

The blond teen was reluctant to indulge his nerdy side in front of him. Kurt was almost certain that it was because Sam was worried he would make fun of him or find it too strange and decide it just wasn't worth being with someone so geeky.

Crazy, right?

He gently shook Sam awake and pressed a kiss to his sleep warmed cheek before silently slipping out the door. He hopped into his navigator and cranked the heat as high as it would go. He briefly warmed his hands before starting his car and making the journey to the Winston House.

Carole had offered to meet him there and help with anything that needed doing but he quickly shot her down. He wanted it to be a surprise. He would stop by the house to grab her dress, having been entrusted with the task, and be on his way.

Since it was still early, he anticipated his family being deep asleep as he crept into the house to retrieve his precious cargo. He was astonished when he saw his father sitting at the table and drinking a cup of (decaf) coffee.

"Daddy," he said in surprise. "What are you doing up so early? Were you waiting on me?"

His father shook his head, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Nah, just couldn't sleep."

"Nervous?" he asked observantly.

Burt chuckled ruefully. "You were always too insightful for your own good. Yeah, I'm nervous."

"About what?" Kurt asked in concern. "Is everything alright?"

His father nodded grimly. "Everything is fine. It's just… I sent an invitation to your grandmother and aunt."

Kurt was dumbfounded. "What?" he asked, body feeling limp with dread.

He nodded. "I sent them _all_ invitations. It's their choice whether or not they show up."

"Did they RSVP?" he asked anxiously.

"No."

Kurt almost wilted with relief until his father continued.

"But that doesn't mean anything. Even before they stopped talking to us, they had a habit of doing the unexpected. I've always hoped, all these years, that they would change their minds, that they would realize what a wonderful child they were missing and the memories that they could be making with you."

The fair boy felt choked up at his father's admission. He had always felt hurt with every birthday and holiday that had passed without word from his estranged family. He knew that is affected his father as well but he had no idea that he had invited them to witness his marriage to a woman they had never met in the presence of a son they barely knew.

"Do you—do you think they're going to show up and cause a scene?"

"I honestly don't know," Burt admitted. "I invited them in a moment of weakness; I regret it."

Kurt sighed loudly. "Well, I guess we'll know tomorrow." He stood from the table and kissed his father on the forehead. "Don't be late for the rehearsal dinner at Breadstix."

Burt nodded gravely, knowing the ire he would suffer if he were to arrive even a minute late, and watched his son scurry down his basement steps to retrieve Carole's dress.

Kurt breathed in the familiar smell of his room and smiled. Chanel was a classic.

Eleanor twined herself around his legs and he stopped to refill her food bowl and check her water. He pushed open the door to his closet and almost jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked his messages before grabbing the dress.

_You left me :(_

Kurt chuckled. He could practically feel Sam's pout from here. The slender boy leaned against his door jam and replied to his sulking boyfriend.

_Aww, don't be like that. I woke you up before I left*and* gave you a kiss. Remember?_

Sam's response was a simple _NO :(_

Kurt thought it was too cute that Sam was such a sleepy head. He was also sure that would run its course if they ever lived together and he had to force the reluctant blond out of bed every morning.

_Well I did, I promise. :)_

He jammed his phone back into his jacket pocket and carefully gathered the dress in its thick garment bag. He batted Eleanor out of the way with his feet and hurried up the steps, calling for Burt to look away since the garment bag had sheer panels on the side.

He quickly stowed the dress in his trunk, along with everything else that he would need, and made his way back inside to say goodbye to his father.

"Will we see you before the rehearsal?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know how long it is going to take me to set everything up for Carole and check on everything else, but I'll keep you updated. Is Aunt Maggie going to stop by with the last of the hors d'oeuvres?"

Burt nodded and waved Kurt off, knowing he was anxious to get to the Winston House to make sure everything had been handled according to his standards and instructions. The slim boy kissed his father on the cheek before hopping into his car and making the trip to the venue.

He looked up at the sky as he drove, the radio volume uncharacteristically low, and mused that Sam might be right. It did look like it was going to snow. He grinned at the thought of a "white" wedding before his mind went back to what his father said.

On one hand, he couldn't _believe_ that he had invited their family. _How_ did he manage to slip that past him? However, on the other hand, he really couldn't blame him. Not having them in their lives was difficult. It was hard to fill the void where family members should be, gone because they left you against their will or voluntarily abandoned you.

He was torn over his hopes for tomorrow. Would it be better for them to remain absent from their lives? Kurt didn't want to get his hopes up for a family that might never work out or be better off having never really have known them.

If they _did_ show up to their son's wedding, would they cause a scene. Would they hate Carole? Would they still hate _him_? He always felt guilty that he inadvertently made his father's family essentially disown him, but he couldn't be anyone but himself.

He sighed softly and paid attention to the road. It wouldn't do to have his father's wedding postponed because the best man wrapped his car around a tree.

Lima was a small town but as he approached the Winston House and drove deeper into the "country" he felt like the air was just lighter. He rolled down the windows and inhaled greedily.

One day, after he was ready to settle down, he could see himself living in a place like this. Maybe after he'd had his fill of the cooking business he could open his own fashion line, design one of a kind gowns from his own home that he and his husband designed, room for their kids and pets to run around.

He sighed. It wouldn't do for him to get ahead of himself. He wouldn't lie to himself and say that he wasn't imagining Sam, but, with graduation swiftly approaching, their future was already uncertain enough.

He huffed in annoyance. He couldn't think about this right now. His mind kept focusing on the negative no matter what he turned to. Maybe he should have let someone come help him, if only to distract him.

Before long he found himself turning onto the wooded road that would lead him to the wedding venue. He smiled as he pulled up to the plantation-style house, taking in the white columns and beautiful gardens.

He followed the hand painted signs to the lobby and walked into the quaint office to check in, not wanting to startle anyone as he was bustling about the property.

The door opened with a cheery jangle and the young woman inside looked up at him in greeting. She couldn't be more than twenty-five and was the thinnest woman he had ever seen. Her billowy, fashionable clothes softened her sharp form. Her hair was as black as ink and bone straight, reaching the middle of her back. She smiled at him and stood form her desk, coming around to shake his hand.

"Hello, I'm Jennifer, the manager of the estate. How may I help you?"

Kurt smiled. Jennifer had an efficient air about her that appealed to him and an unexpectedly husky voice. "My name is Kurt Hummel," he began. "My father is getting married here tomorrow. I have my stepmother's dress to set up the bridal suite and I just wanted to make sure everything is going smoothly."

"Absolutely. I was wondering when I would see you," she said slyly. "You put the fear of God in my planers."

"Well," Kurt began, shaking her hand. "What can I say? I'm a perfectionist."

She laughed, low and smoky, as she nodded and walked back around her desk to fiddle with something in her desk drawer. She held up a small key ring and jangled them in front of him. "They're all labeled, so there shouldn't be any confusion. You can take your car all over the property, and I'll be here until around 7:30. If I'm gone when you finish just drop the keys in the mailbox by the front door."

He took the keys, grateful for the amount of trust she was putting in him. "Thank you, I shouldn't be too long."

Jennifer nodded and took her seat, surveying her desk. "If you need anything just give me a call and I'll send someone out to help you, if I can't come myself."

He thanked her again and climbed back into his Lincoln, eager to unload Carole's dress and set up her suite. His Navigator bumped down the dirt road and the fair boy spied the building where his parents would be saying their vows.

He parked in the back and carefully carried her dress up the grand staircase outside and another spiral set until he reached the top floor. The bridal suite reminded Kurt of a Widow's Peak but without the sad connotations of such a room.

Kurt pushed the door open and smiled at the exquisitely furnished room. He knew he had done well when he had found this place after hours and hours of scouring the internet. He strode across the room and hung the dress on the designated hook, arranging the folds of the garment bag so the dress wouldn't get wrinkled.

He turned to survey the room and was pleased that there wasn't much he needed to correct. It's not that they were _wrong,_ per se, just not as good as they could be. He smiled at the unarranged flowers he ordered, wanting to do it himself.

Kurt removed his many layers and rolled up his sleeves before approaching the flowers spread out on the makeup counter. He would be doing Carole's hair and makeup for her tomorrow. They had been testing styles in his basement for months and just last week they had finally settled on the perfect fit.

He hummed to himself as he began clipping and arranging the blooms. He had just finished the first arrangement when his phone chimed with Sam's ringtone. He smiled and wiped his slightly damp hand on his jeans before snagging his iPhone from the counter.

_Are you done yeeeeet?_

Kurt grinned at the blond haired boy's silliness. He loved that they were comfortable around each other to purposefully tease and annoy one another.

 _Not even close :P_ he replied, going back to his arranging. His phone rang again and he rolled his eyes at Sam's persistence.

_Want some company?_

_I'd love some but I'm an hour away and going to be arranging flowers and table settings all day. I don't imagine that would be fun for you_

Kurt chuckled and inhaled the big bunch of roses before carrying them over to one of the end tables and placing them on it carefully, smoothing out the pale lavender lace underneath. He started when there was a knock at the door.

He walked over to the door and peeked through the curtains. He felt an incredulous smile dawn on his face as he recognized Sam's messy blond hair and favorite _Green Lantern_ hoodie. Kurt opened the door and beamed at the other boy. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise?" he said, hefting the holder of coffee in front of him.

Kurt grinned and threw his arms around Sam's neck, pressing a smacking kiss to the corner of his lips. "What were you going to do if I had said I didn't want company?"

Sam shrugged. "Too bad for you I guess."

Kurt laughed and gladly took the coffee the other boy offered him, collapsing on the couch and pulling Sam with him. He toed off his shoes and draped his feet across the other boy's lap. "Thank you for surprising me," he began. "And the coffee!"

Sam just smiled and rubbed his hands up and down the fair boy's shapely legs. "I really am here to help," he said. "And, you know, because I missed you. That too."

Kurt chuckled and took a sip from his coffee, sighing in relief. Her reluctantly levered himself up from the couch once more and made his way over to the flowers. "Okay," he said. "I am going to take care of these flowers and then just so some more setup. If you want to give this place another good vacuum, that would be great."

"Don't trust their cleanliness?" Sam teased.

"Not even a little," Kurt replied without looking back at him.

The tanned teen chuckled and spotted the vacuum hidden in a semi-closed closet and set to work on the carpets. Though the hum of the vacuum was between them, the atmosphere was restful. Sam was glad he had taken the trip up here to surprise Kurt.

Once he had texted the other boy when he'd dozed off he dressed and impulsively decided to show up at the Winston House and surprise Kurt, hoping to help pass the time while the perfectionist in him fussed with the already immaculate surroundings.

He clicked off the vacuum and stowed it in the closet, grabbing the other cleaning supplies to start on the mirrors and any other flat surfaces.

Kurt watched Sam out of the corner of his eye and smiled. He loved that boy with all his heart. He didn't think there was spoiled or cruel bone in his body and it he considered himself lucky.

He finally finished arranging the flowers and was surprised see the Sam had not only vacuumed but also completely cleaned the en suite bathroom.

He grinned at the other teen and pulled him into a lingering kiss. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "You've been such a big help already."

"Can I do anything else while you finish up in here?"

Kurt worried his lip between his teeth and tapped Sam on the nose. "Run down to my car and grab that big makeup case and the black nylon satchel? I need to setup to do Carole's hair and makeup tomorrow."

Sam nodded and headed out the door before running back inside. "Kurt!" he yelled excitedly. "C'mere!"

The slim teen abandoned cleaning the counter of rushed over to the exuberant boy. "What is it?"

Sam just grinned and pulled Kurt out on to the balcony. "Look!" he exclaimed. "Snow!"

Sure enough, tiny little puffs of white were drifting down and catching in their hair and on their clothes. Kurt grinned and laughed breathlessly. Sam wrapped his arms around his waist and spun them in circles before plopping him in unsteady feet.

"It's so pretty," Kurt declared. "I love snow…but it's _cold_ outside!"

The two of them had run out without their jackets and Sam laughed before encouraging Kurt to go back inside to the warmed suite. He ran to the car and carefully carried the bags up to the bridal suite.

Kurt had cleaned the counter of flower debris and was wiping it down with a Lysol wipe when he returned. Although he wanted nothing more than to bundle Kurt in warm clothes and go play in the snow, he knew they had things to take care of.

And _then_ they play in the snow.

Sam sat in the other chair and listened as Kurt idly explained what each thing was for and how he planned to make Carole up tomorrow, not understanding a word but content to list to Kurt chatter. Finally, they were done in the suite, but before Sam could get up the other boy gave him a sweet kiss.

"Thank you for helping me," he whispered. "I wouldn't even be close to done in here if you hadn't surprised me."

Sam just smiled and followed after Kurt, gathering up their multiple layers and locking up behind them. "I just have to check on all the decorations in the reception area and the setup of the altar and seating."

"Lead the way."

Kurt grinned and took the spiral staircase down to the balcony, unlocking the reception area first. Kurt walked into the ballroom and was shocked by the transformation.

The ballroom had already been impressive, even empty, but now it looked _exactly_ like Kurt imagined. The red and white blended seamlessly with the décor and it looked just like a winter wonderland, but without all the kitsch.

He wandered around and was pleased to notice the only things that needed corrections were the DJ table and the napkin rings—crystal that needed to be replaced with silver.

He called Jennifer with the number she had provided and told her about the napkin rings while Sam moved the table to the correct corner himself. She assured him that they would be taken care of and the two teens made their way outside.

Kurt was even more pleased with what the decorators at the Winston House had done with the site for the ceremony. The white altar was carved out of the most delicate wood he had ever seen. Vines of flowers were carved into the structure along with flowing muslin and red bows.

The chairs were actually long benches, similar to church pews, with similar carvings and decorations. The aisle runner was not placed yet but Kurt saw it rolled up in the ballroom.

He grinned at Sam happily and jumped at him so hard the fair teen was knocked over with the force. Sam laughed, loud and clear and tumbled backwards, grunted when his back hit the ground. The soft snowfall hadn't fallen to enough to cushion the ground and he grunted upon impact.

Kurt chuckled into his broad chest and nuzzled close. "Love you," he whispered.

Sam laughed and rolled them over, trapping Kurt underneath him. "I love you, too. Now let's get out of here."

The fair teen shivered and agreed. Sam helped him to his feet and nudged him toward his car. "Since you finished so early…" he began. "What are you planning on doing?"

Kurt eyed the boy slyly. "Did you happen to have something in mind?"

"Lunch," Sam replied emphatically. "And then we'll see from there. I imagine you have to get baking that cake."

The fair boy nodded. "Yes I do. But where do you wanna go for lunch, sweetheart? Did you see anything that interested you on the way up here? I wasn't really looking."

"I saw one or two," he admitted. "What are you in the mood for?"

Kurt groaned. "I'm in the mood for you to decide!" he exclaimed, giving the blond boy a little shake.

Sam huffed at Kurt's loophole, gripping his shoulders lightly and shaking him. He bit his lip and thought back. "What about barbeque?" he asked finally.

Kurt's nose wrinkled at the thought of all those calories but couldn't deny it sounded delicious. "I'll follow you," he declared, pressing one last kiss to Sam's cheek before hopping into his Lincoln.

Sam quickly slid into his Camaro and cursed the dirt paths and gravels roads. They were hell on his suspension, but at least he had Kurt with him if something went wrong.


	32. The Knot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, this is it! This is the final chapter before this part of my Hevans saga comes to a close. As I have said before, there is going to be a teeny epilogue, but that's it.
> 
> I'll be taking a break between this and the sequel, but fear not, there _will_ be a sequel :) I'm still a bit iffy about where I am going to start it and a few (kind of major) details. I'll probably be talking about them on my tumblr, so stay tuned!
> 
> This chapter starts right where we left off. I mean, _right_ where we left off :P I hope you guys like it, it's kind of a big moment/life changing event for Kurt, Sam too. This is kind of a glimpse of what their future could be like, minus a few jerky family members.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lunch passed far too quickly for Sam's liking and they found themselves stepping back into the cold Ohio air. "Do you _have_ to go?" he whined.

Kurt chuckled. "Well, I _do_ have a wedding cake to bake _and_ decorate."

Sam pouted before giving the fair boy an appropriately-timed Eskimo kiss. He grinned suddenly, having come up with a brilliant plan. "You could bake the cake at my house!" he suggested. "That way your dad and Carole will be surprised!"

Kurt's face adopted a thoughtful expression as he pondered the possibility. "They _would_ be surprised. I wanted them to not see it until the reception but I didn't want to kick them out of the kitchen any longer than I already had…"

"C'mon!" Sam encouraged. "I know that I can't really help with it, but then you can surprise them and we can spend more time together."

"And play in the snow?" Kurt asked slyly.

"Well," Sam replied bashfully, having been caught. "Just maybe when the cake is cooling."

The brunette boy chuckled and nodded. "Let me call my dad and make sure that's okay. We can bake the cake before the rehearsal dinner and by the time we come back, it'll be ready to be iced and decorated."

Sam whooped with happiness and jumped into a snow pile near his Camaro. Kurt grinned indulgently before dialing his father to obtain permission to bake at Sam's. And perhaps they would have time to pursue some other sweet activities, who knows?

Unsurprisingly, Burt had no problem with Kurt making their wedding cake at the Evans' home. The two teens stopped at the Hummel's home to collect the ingredients and Kurt's clothes for the rehearsal dinner and then they were off to Sam's once more.

Though the air inside Kurt's car was warm, the air outside was crisp and unforgiving. By the time the two of them had managed to bring all the bags inside the fair teen felt like an icicle.

Sam grinned and bundled him in front of the newly started fire for a moment, running upstairs to get them both something warm and comfortable to change into.

Kurt sat in front of the fireplace and cuddled the grey Frenchie close, the warm pup struggling against his hold and chilled hands.

Sam bounded downstairs and urged Kurt out of his impractical clothes and into a pair of his sweats and an old Dalton gym shirt that he was certain was going to find its way into his boyfriend's closet.

Kurt grinned in gratitude and allowed himself to be cuddled close, Sam rubbing warmth into his extremities. After about thirty minutes Kurt was declared warm enough to brave the kitchen and start on the many tiers of his father's cake.

Sam assisted him by measuring and pouring and providing the aspiring pastry chef someone to speak with while he constructed the delicious dessert. Kurt was glad for the Evans' double ovens, able to get all the tiers and ladyfingers in at one time instead of having to bake them in batches like he would have at home.

Kurt whipped up the filling, borrowing a measure of rum and coffee for the filling. As the fair teen scraped the last of the filling into a bowl to stow in the fridge Sam caught him about the waist and pinned him to the counter. He urged the other boy to face him and Kurt's breath hitched in his throat at the look in the blonde's eye.

Sam trapped his wrists in either hand and pressed a lingering kiss to each side of his neck before pulling back and staring into Kurt's eyes. The light skinned boy was torn between groaning and whimpering as held his eyes as he licked the sweet filling from his fingers.

Kurt leaned forward and captured Sam's full lips with his own, gasping into his mouth as the other boy whirled him away from the bowl of crème and into the island's countertop. Kurt wrapped his legs around Sam's waist and feebly struggled to get his wrists free.

Eventually Sam released his hands and Kurt's fingers immediately speared through his blond locks; so much for playing in the snow.

Kurt shivered as Sam's hands slipped under his shirt, the digits blissfully warm but sending sparks of electricity down his spine and gathering in his navel. As the fair boy was about to pull Sam's shirt off they were startled by the timer for the lady fingers and cake droning in the background.

The shorter teen pressed an apologetic kiss to Sam's lips and nodded towards the ovens. "I have to," she said softly, not wanting to ruin his father's wedding cake no matter how nice the distraction was.

He slipped on the oven mitts to grab the trays and rounds from the oven. The spongy cakes required the oven to swelter at 400 degrees but Sam's gaze on his back was far hotter, scorching him from head to toe.

Kurt quickly transferred the pastries over to cooling rack, tossing off the protective mitts once he had finished. Sam was right there, pulling him close and lifting him up, encouraging him to wrap his arms and legs around him.

Kurt clicked off the oven as Sam strode past it, giggling into his mouth, making their way toward the living room. He fell to his knees and gently deposited Kurt onto his back, the fair teen already pulling his shirt over his head. The heat of the fire was almost too much now, but Kurt luxuriated in the decadent feel of making love in front of a fireplace.

Sam pulled away from him to divest himself of clothing and Kurt followed suit, kicking off the borrowed sweats and boxer briefs, running his hands against the deliciously soft linens underneath him. He closed his eyes when he felt Sam's hands on him once more, starting at his ankles and slowly sliding to frame either side of his face.

Kurt pulled Sam into a passionate kiss, arching up into him and making sure to rub every inch of available skin together. The blond hummed happily and began kissing down his chest, pausing to lave attention to each nipple.

He mouthed at each one until they were rosy with abuse, Sam then kissing his way down his stomach, pausing to nip here or suck there. Kurt whimpered, knowing that the other teen was purposefully avoiding where he wanted to be touched most.

"Sam," he pleaded breathlessly. "Your mouth, please."

The tanned boy nodded against the soft planes of his stomach, sucking one last mark to the pale skin before licking at the base of his hardness. Kurt cried out before smothering his mewls in the thick blankets underneath them.

Sam sunk his mouth over the head and down, starting a lazy rhythm that maked Kurt writhe. His fingers tangled in blond hair as he tried not to pull but couldn't quite manage. "Oh," he cooed. "Sam."

The other teen just hummed contentedly, making Kurt squirm all the more. Sam pulled away and ignored the fait teen's whines. He pressed a kiss to his bellybutton before catching his eyes. "Be right back," he whispered. "I didn't plan to jump you in the kitchen, so I'm unprepared."

Kurt whimpered. Just when it was getting really good, the blond had to disappear. His hand shot forward. "Wait," he begged. "Please."

He shifted restlessly, trying to find some much needed friction to relieve the ache between his legs. "We still can," he promised. "Just, please, don't stop."

Sam sank back onto his knees and placed his hands at Kurt's hips, dipping down to nuzzle at his navel and lick at the sensitive, ticklish skin there. "All right," he growled softly, fitting his mouth over the top of his erection once more.

Kurt groaned let his hand come up to tangle in his own hair, tugging restlessly, while the other trailed down his chest, nails scratching lightly. "Sam," he panted, already close from his earlier ministrations.

His hips moved against his will, thrusting up into the wet heat of Sam's mouth. The blond just hummed lightly and encouraged Kurt to keep going. His callused fingers trailed between his legs and brushed tantalizingly over his entrance, making the slender boy cry out sharply. "Please, please," he begged needlessly.

Sam just hummed once more and increased the pressure of his fingers, making Kurt whimper and bite his lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood. One of Sam's hands came up and he pressed a hand to his hip, his strong fingers feeling like a brand.

Kurt's mind went white when he came, dimly aware that he was making an embarrassingly shrill sound as he released into Sam's mouth. His body went limp and he could feel a faint tremor through his body.

He managed an eye roll at Sam's smug grin and flicked his fingers weakly, indicating he could continue. The tanned teen pressed a kiss to his lips before disappearing from Kurt's sight.

The brunette boy slumped against the tangle of blankets on the floor and reached for the tissues on the coffee table with a shaky hand. He half-heartedly swiped at the mess on his stomach and grinned as he heard Sam's hurried footsteps and a muffled curse when he stumbled into the flower pot at the end of the stairs, like he always did.

He smiled tiredly as Sam appeared in front of him and ran lazy fingers over his face. Sam returned the grin and leaned forward, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. Kurt sighed happily and allowed himself to be manhandled, a pillow being shoved under his hips.

Suddenly, Sam's uncharacteristically serious face swam into sight. "Are you sure you still want to?" he asked. "I don't want to be selfish."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asked in confusion. "Selfish how?"

Sam just shrugged earnestly, color suffusing high on his cheek bones. "You already came," he said simply. "I know you said we could after, but I don't want to make you if you're sleepy."

"I'm not sleepy!" Kurt defended, even though he most certainly was. "I'm just relaxed." He leaned forward and framed Sam's face in his hands, gently peppering kisses to his heated cheeks. "Besides, do you really think I'd have a problem telling you I didn't want to have sex?"

Sam chuckled. "I guess not."

He nipped at Kurt's jaw and lapped at the smooth skin there. His earlier sense of urgency was gone and he was feeling rather tender at the moment. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over the smooth planes of Kurt's body, sighing in appreciation.

He fumbled around with closed eyes and searched for the bottle of lube he had tossed onto the blankets and murmured happily when his fingers closed around the plastic container. He feathered kissed down Kurt's body until his head was pillowed in his thighs so he could watch himself get the other boy ready for him.

He heard Kurt's quiet intake of breath when he pressed the first finger inside, loving the breathy noises the other boy made when they were together.

Sam took his time getting Kurt ready and before long the other boy was hard and aching again. Kurt didn't know whether to curse or praise teenage stamina, but he was as eager as ever for Sam's touch.

The blond stroked over Kurt's prostate one last time before withdrawing his finger and groping for the condom. He opened the foil packet carefully and slid the latex sheath over his hardness, shivering at the sensation. "Ready?" he asked.

Kurt nodded empathically and chewed on his already-abused lower lip. "Sam," he pleaded, feeling far more desperate than anyone that had come not ten minutes prior had any right to feel.

He impatiently wrapped his legs around Sam's waist and mewled as he felt Sam slowly press inside him. Kurt swore he could feel him everywhere, stretching him and making him squirm. "Sam," he panted again.

Sam may have been in the mood for tender and slow but one glance at the clock made his swear underneath his breath.

"What is it," Kurt asked, hand low on his back and urging him to move faster.

"Nothing," Sam said, picking up the pace. They had time for slow later, after the cake had been frosted and Sam could lick the rest of the batter off his fingers once more, and perhaps a few other places as well.

The tall boy positioned into Kurt, taking his breath away and causing him to arch his back to the point of pain. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes—don't stop!"

Sam merely grunted in concentration and let out a tortured moan when Kurt squeezed around him like a vice, coming between them once more. The hot seed spilled between them made his thrusts stutter to a halt and he let out a hoarse shout as he came, trembling harshly.

He panted and held himself over Kurt with quivering limbs. "Baby," he said reverently. He pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's flushed temple and nuzzled his nose into sweaty hair.

He caught the glow of the clock once more and sighed. "I hate to break the mood," he began. "But we _really_ need to get in the shower if we are going to make it to the rehearsal in time."

"What?" Kurt squawked, afterglow disappearing in a haze of panic. He glanced at the clock in horror and saw that it really was only an hour and half from when they would be meeting for the rehearsal.

Luckily, it wasn't taking place at the ceremony site, but in town at Breadstix. They had been permitted to use the fancier veranda as a makeshift practice alter and ceremony site before being seamlessly transformed into a cute, intimate dinner.

Kurt winced as Sam pulled away from him and gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts before getting up. "Okay," he began. "I have a feeling if we share a shower, we'll never be ready in time."

Sam nodded reluctantly and helped the other boy off the floor, gathering the blankets as Kurt paced. "You take my room," he said. "It has more space and I know you'll need to get ready. I'll clean this up so it's not here when my parents get in tonight and hop in the shower hallway if you aren't finished. All right?"

Kurt nodded and gave the other boy a rueful look. "Sorry I totally killed the mood," he said.

Sam shrugged. "You didn't. It was kind of silly for us to get into this while we were already so busy. Now go!" he encouraged with a laugh.

Kurt gave him one last kiss and snatched his satchel up as he ran up the stairs, using it to cover his behind from view. He looked over his shoulder and gave Sam a knowing look and slipped inside his room, wicked laughter making Sam chuckle to himself.

He cleaned up the evidence of their lovemaking and tossed the blankets they had rolled about on in the wash. His parents should be home around ten o'clock, giving them plenty of time to rest up for the evening wedding.

He took one last look at the living room and deemed it clean and jogged up the stairs. He was unsurprised to hear Kurt in the shower and quickly hopped into the hall bath, washing quickly but efficiently.

He stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and took another to scrub the water from the rest of him, draping it over his head as he walked to his room.

He opened the door to find Kurt leaning over the bathroom sink, rubbing some kind of lotion onto his skin with quick, practiced motions. He smiled when he was Sam and finished with whatever he was doing. "Do you need in here?" he asked.

Sam shook his head in amusement. "No, go ahead and do your hair. I'm just going to toss on the outfit that has magically appeared on my bed and I can brush my hair in the mirror on the closet door."

Kurt blushed at picking Sam's outfit. "You don't have to wear it," he said sheepishly. "I just looked in there for the robe I left here and I saw all your clothes and before I knew it I had rifled through them all and picked something for you to wear tonight."

Sam just shook his head good naturedly and pulled on the soft chocolate colored trousers and ran his hands down the smooth fabric. "I don't remember these," he said softly.

"Well, you should definitely wear them more often," Kurt announced. "They look wonderful on you. Warm colors look so flattering on you. I always thought brown was a boring color, but I was mistaken, it seems."

Sam felt himself blush at Kurt's words of praise. "Thanks," he said bashfully.

Kurt just smiled shyly before rustling about his bag and pulled on his own trousers. His were a soft wheat color and fitted, though still appropriate for meeting family for such an important dinner.

"I notice we match," Sam said. "I mean, right? Tan and brown match, don't they?"

Kurt laughed softly and nodded. "Yes, they match. And yes, I did that on purpose. It wouldn't do to sit next to someone in grey all evening."

Sam just rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's antics and swiped on his Old Spice deodorant before pulling on the light sweater Kurt had picked. It was a deep green and it made Sam think he kind of resembled a tree but like, in a good way.

He started when he felt Kurt's hands smoothing over his back, pulling the wrinkles from his sweater and a few stray R2 hairs. "Can I trust you to pick your own shoes?" he asked jokingly.

"I think so," Sam replied, going for a pair of brown leather boots that made Sam think about Steampunk. He briefly debated picking something else, but he loved them and they would be tucked under his pants.

He glanced back and Kurt and watched as he buttoned a pale yellow vest over his white long-sleeved shirt with a faint and delicate blue flower pattern. He finished it with a bowtie that Sam had bought for him at the Ren Fest because it reminded him of the tea cups Kurt's mother had always used that sat in the Hummel's hutch. He slipped into a pair of white shoes and ran nervous fingers through his hair.

"Kurt," Sam called. "Relax—I can see how tense you are from here. We're going to make it in more than enough time, you look wonderful, and I can't wait until tomorrow."

Kurt smiled and blushed at being caught so flustered. "You just want some of that cake," he teased to cover his anxiety.

Sam winked. "Guilty."

He got up and wrested the comb from Kurt's hand. "Now get in the car; we have a rehearsal to attend."

* * *

_The rehearsal dinner is going to go off without a hitch,_ Kurt thought vehemently. He relaxed when he saw his father arrive _on time_ and sans ball cap and jeans. Carole looked smug, so he supposed he had her to thank for his father's acceptable appearance, adhering to decorum for once.

They ran through the ceremony but Carole and Burt did not rehearse their vows. They had chosen to write them and didn't want the other to hear until the ceremony, which the pale boy found incredibly romantic.

Kurt was glad to see he was not the only one that was more than a little teary eyed about the entire affair and whimpered at Sam gratefully when he wordlessly held out a cloth napkin and rubbed his back in comfort.

"I'm just really happy," he squeaked, nearly dreading the ceremony if this was a taste of what was to come.

Sam just nods and keeps rubbing his back in a smooth circular motion. "I know, baby," he assures. "Don't be embarrassed. Everyone here loves you."

Kurt gave him a watery smile and cuddled close, not caring about what anyone might say or think. Everyone here _did_ love him, with the few exceptions for Carole's family that he had yet to meet, but they had all smiled at him nicely before taking their places.

Then the "ceremony" was done and they were all ready for dinner. Kurt had worked with the owner and chef, as well as his parents, to compose a smaller, healthier menu for their party.

He knew his father was going to order the Italian sausage with peppers and onions since he was practically a carnivore. Carole would most likely order the linguini with clam sauce since it's all he's heard about for two days.

Kurt, however, was looking forward to a giant salad. He'd felt heavy from all the rich food Sam had been tricking him into eating and he had been looking forward to the tangy dressing and crisp lettuce since lunch, when Sam had goaded him into another plate of barbecue turkey and macaroni and cheese.

He sighed in anticipation leaned close to his father, resting his head against his shoulder for a moment before turning to Sam. "What are you going to get?" Kurt asked.

"The sausage, I think," he answered predictably. "And the salad."

Kurt nodded. "I'm getting the soup and the big salad."

The soup was Italian wedding, of course, and though it was kind of corny, Kurt thought it was cute. For dessert they had opted out of the tiramisu, since it was going to be their wedding cake, and chosen the cannoli instead.

Halfway through the appetizer course Kurt was finished with his soup and took a moment to survey the guests. Most of them were laughing and eating or taking their turn to have a word with the happy couple.

Except one.

Kurt's heart froze in his chest and his fingers tightened on Sam's thigh mercilessly. The tall boys looked at him questioningly and, try as he might, Kurt couldn't school his face into something resembling normal.

"What is it," he asked softly, covering the boy's hand with his own. "What's wrong?"

He wrenched his eyes away from the lone figure and looked at Sam anxiously. "My aunt is here," he whispered.

"The one that…?"

" _Yes_ ," he hissed. He didn't know what to do. Should he ignore her? Tell his father? Go speak to her?

Finally, he knew he had to at least draw his father's attention to her presence, and the leave it up to him to decide.

He took a deep breath and looked to his father. "Daddy," he whispered, tapping his father on the shoulder. "Su—Aunt Susan is here."

The color drained from his father's face and he looked to where Kurt nodded. Carole patted his shoulder and looked at him in support. "Do whatever you need to," she encouraged. "Just…don't let anyone ruin anything for you."

Kurt nodded in agreement and released a shaky breath. He hadn't seen his aunt since… since before his mother died. A while before his mother died.

He chanced a look over at the two of them and noticed that Susan looked more sad than anyone he had ever seen, aside from the early days of his mother's passing, when he saw such sadness in his father and himself.

He looked at Carole worriedly and was horrified to feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. This is not why he wanted to be crying at his parent's rehearsal dinner.

He didn't want to hope that things had changed. He didn't want to let himself hope that his aunt would have had a change of heart and stopped her hurtful, hateful ways that had torn them apart. Her husband had been a fiercely religious and intolerant man, and she had taken up his ideals shortly after they married, cutting all ties with them.

He tried to get a clear look at her ring finger, but the light was poor and she was just too far away to see If there was a band on her nearly skeletal fingers. Her eyes were sunken in and she looked absolutely ragged.

He almost found himself rising from his seat to approach them, but only Sam's comforting hand on his leg kept him rooted to his seat and the tears at bay.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Kurt swallowed and pushed his empty bowl away from him, stomach roiling tumultuously. "I don't know," he said honestly. "We'll see when my dad gets back."

And then, suddenly, he _wasn't_ okay. He was overcome with a sense of nausea and hurriedly excused himself from the table. He rushed through the restaurant, distantly aware that Sam was hot on his heels, and burst into the private handicap bathroom.

He said a mentally apology to anyone that might have legitimate claim to using this restroom, and not someone who didn't want to kneel on the ground of a public men's room.

He wretched miserably, emptying the contents of his stomach repeatedly. He briefly mourned the fact that he was certain he wouldn't be able to eat barbecue for a while and tried to repress the tears that always came when he got sick like this.

Finally, he just couldn't, and whimpered before sobs broke loose. He felt pathetic; huddled on the ground of a restaurant bathroom, crying his eyes out, and throwing up, all over seeing a family member that had deserted him and his father.

"Shh," he heard Sam whisper softly, rubbing his back and pressing a cold paper towel to the back of his neck. "Easy, baby."

He took a stuttering breath and nodded, hoping to convey to Sam his mental breakdown was (mostly) over. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked roughly. "Go into the glove compartment of my car and get my little travel toothbrush and toothpaste?"

Sam nodded and pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead. He slipped out of the door and Kurt allowed himself a minute to wallow in his sorrow. He started when the door opened far too quickly for it to be Sam returning with his toothbrush.

His father peeked into the door and looked at him guiltily. "Bambi," he breathed. "What happened?"

Kurt tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, not wanting his father to know he'd gotten sick due to the presence of a long-gone family member.

"Don't you lie to me," Burt said, knowing that his son was deliberately withholding information. "Is this because of Susan?"

Kurt briefly debated lying, but just settled for nodding his head and tiredly levering himself up off the floor. He rinsed his mouth out, desperately craving a toothbrush. "Sorry," he croaked. "I don't know what happened."

Burt sighed. "I do. You make yourself sick with worry. I'm so sorry, Kurt," he began contritely. He shushed his son before he could defend his father's actions, rubbing Kurt's arm in comfort. "I didn't think about how this could affect _you_."

"S'okay," he rasped. "I think it's just a combination of all the nerves."

Kurt hoped his father bought that, because he didn't know what else to say on the subject. Yes, it hurt that his family was gone and didn't really care to know him, but it would hurt even more if they came back into his life and went away once more.

He was comfortable like this. They had a family and they were happy and comfortable and only had to worry about one another. He didn't know if he could trust his father's sister.

He cleared his throat and tried to come up with something to say. "So… um, what did she have to say?"

Burt shook his head painfully and looked around the small, dimly lit bathroom in confusion. "Sorry?" he said uncertain. "She said…she said she never should have listened to her husband. Heck, that she never should have married him."

"What?"

"I guess she found out that he was a racist, sexist, bigoted, creature."

Kurt and his father shared a look. That was abundantly obvious to them when he turned her away from them because of Kurt's "strangeness".

"Apparently, she left him," his dad continued. "She says she's seen the error of her ways. We'll see."

They remained silent, and Kurt could see the shadows of Sam's feet outside the door, wanting to give them privacy but ready with Kurt's toothbrush. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father beat him to it.

"Be honest; do you think it's wrong that I don't trust my own sister?"

Kurt paused and his thoughts moved in a thousand different directions. In any other circumstance, he may have said yes. But she had proved to the both of them that she _wasn't_ trustworthy and she _didn't_ care that she had hurt them, at least, not until very recently.

Now, she supposedly did, but it was too little too late. "No," he finally said. "No. She has a lot to make up for."

Burt nodded. "She said she's coming to the ceremony tomorrow, but if it's going to upset you or make you uncomfortable, I'll tell her not to come. _You_ are the most important thing in my life, Bambi. Nothing else matters."

Kurt felt choked up again at his father's admission but he shook his head no. "No, it'll be fine. There is going to be so much to do and so many people that I doubt I'll even see her. Not that that would matter."

Burt took a long look at his son before nodding decisively. "I'm still going to speak to her, but okay. I love you, Kurt. Never forget that."

Kurt shook his head. "I'd give you a kiss right now," he said thickly. "But my mouth is gross."

It had the desired effect of making his father laugh as he opened the door on a startled Sam. "Go on in, kid." And with a pat on the back, he was gone.

Sam entered the room and held out Kurt's little toiletry kit, his face soft with concern. "I'm okay," he assured. When the other boy didn't look convinced, he continued. "My dad is right; I worry myself sick."

The blond frowned worriedly and leaned against the wall as Kurt put himself back together. He brushed his teeth but he still felt disgusting and sent a brief mental thank you to himself for being so prepared, for any occasion.

He ran some warm water and splashed it over his face before squeezing some face wash onto his hands and scrubbing away the tension and sweat. He took the proffered paper towels and dried off. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I hope I didn't completely ruin your appetite."

Sam shrugged. "Pretty sure that's impossible."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, let's go back to dinner and try to act like I didn't just have a nervous breakdown in a restroom and have to be calmed down by my boyfriend and my father."

The tanned teen just clucked sympathetically and the two made their way to the veranda once more. Kurt took his seat and had just enough time to take a refreshing sip of water before the waiter placed his salad in front of him.

He smiled in thanks and glanced over at Sam's dish, his stomach roiling nervously. He looked away quickly and focused resolutely on his bowl of greens and bowl of soup.

He picked at his salad and glanced around the guest nervously, looking for his father's sister. He mentally shook himself; it's not like she was going to suddenly pop up in front of him and point an accusatory finger at him, screaming about his unnaturalness.

Kurt was worried about some inevitable confrontation. His father had said she was sorry, which means he would probably have to deal with some kind of apology with varying degrees of sincerity.

He didn't want to hear it. He knew it sounded strange, especially since he had been so hurt by his family's abandonment, but he really didn't.

What was he supposed to say? It wasn't okay, and he wasn't going to excuse anyone, but he really didn't want to quarrel when he knew it hurt his father to be apart from his family.

 _Fuck them_ , Kurt thought venomously. _They don't deserve us, anyway._

He chewed on his lower lip agitatedly. He'd cross that bridge when he got there. He munched on his salad with a renewed appetite, smiling at his father when he caught his eye.

Kurt narrowed his eyes in confusion when his father frowned at him. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Burt gestured to his lip with his knife. "What happened to your lip?"

The slender teen reached forward and touched his mouth, hissing when the salt on his hand stung whatever abrasion was on his lip. He grabbed his spoon and looked at his reflection in the metal. He frowned when he saw his split lip before being hit with realization.

He hoped the low lighting would hide the blush on his face. He recalled biting his lip ragged earlier, when he and Sam were amorously involved. He tried to school his features into a mask of indifference and looked back to his father.

"I must have bit it earlier and not noticed. I was kind of preoccupied, you know?"

He felt bad for using his father's guilt over the fact his estranged sister showed up to hide the real reason for his split lip, but he liked having a boyfriend _and_ had no desire to cancel the nuptials because his father killed Sam with a breadstick and was now sitting in a dank jail cell. Thankfully, he bought it. His lips thinned in displeasure but he clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder.

By the time dessert rolled around he had nearly forgotten all about the impromptu reunion and was enjoying the night once more. He had felt brave enough to share a brief kiss with Sam over a cannoli, the sweet filling making him think of the romantic dinner he had prepared for him.

After all the guests had cleared out and the bill had been settled, Kurt and Sam were making their way out to his Navigator when they were stopped by Finn.

The tall teen was heartwarmingly worried over his speech at the reception. Finn had been agonizing over it for weeks and desperately wanted his soon-to-be-brother's opinion on it.

Kurt walked back over to one of the outside tables and spread the untidy speech onto the surface. He concentrated on the surprisingly heartfelt sentiments as Sam and Finn talked about some kind of sports behind him. Probably football. Something with a ball.

He made a few notations, corrected some minor grammar mistakes and misused words, and handed it back to the lanky boy. "This is really great," he said sincerely. "Your mom is going to love it; everyone will."

Finn bit his lip uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Kurt assured. "You can really tell you put a lot of thought into it."

Finn smiled his goofy smile and pulled Kurt into a brief, crushing hug. "See you later!"

He and Sam shared a look of amusement before the blond held a hand out to Kurt. "Ready to get back to making that wedding cake?"

Kurt looked at him wryly. "Are you going to let me _finish_ the cake this time?"

Sam had the good grace to look sheepish but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, I think I can manage that. Besides, my parents are home."

The brunette chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I figured as much. Now let's go; we have to finish the cake and get you all packed to for tomorrow, since you're getting ready at my house."

Sam nodded and placed a hand at the small of his back, leading him to the car. "Want me to drive?" he asked, remembering Kurt's earlier distress.

"Please?"

The blond nodded and they made their way through the nearly empty parking lot to his car. Kurt narrowed his eyes as he approached his car, seeing something on the windshield. He sighed and rolled his eyes; it would be just his luck that some homophobic jock from school saw him and Sam together tonight and left a scathing note on his very recognizable car.

He stood on his toes and snagged the pink sheet of paper as Sam opened the door for him. He hopped into the seat and buckled his seatbelt before reluctantly opening the wrinkled paper and immediately slamming it shut.

Susan. It was from Susan.

It had been a while since he had seen her handwriting on anything so much as a birthday card, but it wasn't something he could forget. He had admired his estranged aunt's handwriting when he was younger, fluid and curling like some kind of calligraphy, before she'd cut off all contact.

"Oh my God," Kurt breathed shakily. He felt the paper crumple in his fist. "Oh my God."

Then the driver's side door opened and Sam hefted himself into the seat. He put the keys in the ignition and smiled over at Kurt, the happy expression freezing on his face.

"Kurt?" he asked bewilderedly. "Kurt, what is it?"

He couldn't bring himself to speak, merely thrusting the letter towards the other boy. Sam gently pried it from his fist and smoothed it out over the steering wheel. "Susan?" he asked.

Kurt realized he had never told Sam the name of their surprise visitor. "My aunt—the woman that showed up."

Sam's eyebrows rose in alarm. "Oh," he said. "Oh, wow. Did—did you read it?"

The pale boy shook his head emphatically. "No," he said thickly.

"Do you…want me to?" Sam offered hesitantly.

Kurt wrestled with the idea. On one hand, he was frightfully curious what this woman thought she had the right to say to him after all these years. On the other, he was _terrified_ of what she had to say. He knew that even the most confident person could be derailed by hateful words. Somehow, the cruel knew just where to hit.

"No," he eventually said. "No. I…I just can't. Get rid of it. Please…get rid of it."

The blond worried his lip for a moment before nodding and slipping out of the car and tossing the pink paper into a nearby trash can.

He hopped back into the car and fastened his belt and started the car. He adjusted the heat and carefully pulled out of the parking lot. They made most of the trip in silence until Kurt finally spoke up, just moments from Sam's house.

"Do you think I'm a coward for not reading that letter?"

Sam looked over at him, startled. "Why would you even think that?"

"It was just a letter," Kurt needled. "Just a letter, and I couldn't read it. It made me feel sick."

The other boy slowed to a stop on the side of the road and looked at him. He shook his head slowly, face beautiful and serious. "Words can hurt," he said simply.

That forced a tearful chuckled out of him. "Yeah, they can," he agreed sadly.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Kurt could only shrug. "We'll see."

Sam worried his lip unhappily but continued on to his house. When they pulled into the drive they could see Mr. Evans' car in the drive, signaling their arrival home.

They slowly trudged up the steps and pushed inside. Kurt could hear the sounds of distant unpacking and muffled curses as they entered the house, making him smile in spite of himself.

"Why don't you go upstairs and change?" Sam suggested. "I'll check in with my parents."

Kurt nodded and took the steps slowly, walking into Sam's room and softly closing the door. He collapsed onto the other boy's soft bed and sighed gustily. He felt like his emotions have been every which way and sideways on the course of a few hours and now he was emotional exhausted.

He groaned and levered himself from bed. Regardless of his feelings, he had a cake to finish. Nothing was going to stand in the way of him making his father's big day perfect.

He pulled on a pair of sweats and the shirt Sam had given him earlier and made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm, leaning heavily against the sink.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs but closed his eyes and leaned towards the sink, splashing the warm water on his face. When that wasn't enough, he grabbed a wash cloth and soaked it before pressing it to his face.

He felt rather than heard someone coming up behind him. He was able to tell it was Sam just by his presence, and it brought a tired smile to his face. A dry towel was offered to him and he took it gladly, patting at his face gently.

"Thanks," he said quietly. He turned to face the other boy slowly.

Sam was holding a glass of water and two blue pills in his hand. "Advil," he said simply. "Kind of thought you might need it."

Kurt nodded and took the pills and water appreciatively. He really did need them. He could feel the beginning of the mother of all tension headaches coming on, and he really needed to be able to focus on the task at hand.

Sam pressed a kiss to his lips after he'd finished the water and took the glass from his hand, turning back to his room to change his clothes as well. Kurt sat on the desk chair and closed his eyes, waiting for the meds to kick in and his boyfriend to change.

The blond pulled off his fancy clothes with a barely audible groan of relief, making Kurt smile. Sometimes, Sam was such a guy.

He pulled on a pair of thick, worn sweats and a long sleeved lacrosse shirt; yet another sport he played at Dalton. Did he mention he liked sports?

He shuffled forward and pressed a kiss to Kurt's slightly warm forehead. "Are you ready to go downstairs?"

Kurt sighed before opening his eyes and looking up at Sam. "I think so," he whispered. And then, "Yes, let's go."

He mustered a smiled and grabbed his phone from his bag, following Sam downstairs. The blond boy was worried about Kurt. He knew that tomorrow was going to be stressful enough without the added factor of possible estranged, renegade family members.

When he'd come in he'd immediately sought out his parents and warned them not to ask how dinner went; as they were most likely going to do. Sam figured that Kurt wouldn't want to relive that unpleasantness, even though the dinner was a success if one didn't take Susan into account.

They entered the kitchen and Kurt checked on all the lady fingers and layers. He smiled in satisfaction, despite his slowly dissipating bad mood. "Want to help?" he asked.

Sam nodded eagerly, glad that Kurt trusted him enough to ask. "Of course. What do you need?"

Kurt gestured to a cutting board on the counter before washing his hands. "Can you slice the strawberries, like, really carefully? Make them as even as you can?"

The tanned boy nodded and grabbed the berries for the fridge, placing them on the cutting board and moving onto the island counter. He carefully pulled the paring knife from the block and focused his attention on the removing the stems from the berries.

While Sam did that, Kurt carefully assembled the tiers. He filled the centers with crème and adhered the ladyfingers all along the outside before grabbing the thick, red organza ribbon and tying it around the outside.

It was painstaking work, but it was just what Kurt needed. The attention to detail it required enabled him to push Susan from his mind and relax.

Tomorrow was going to be a whirlwind of a day. Kurt was nervous about transporting the cake and was contemplating calling Jennifer and begging her to let him bring the cake tonight. He wanted to have the entire thing assembled tonight, but there was just no way to store a five tier cake in _any_ of the freezers available to him at the moment.

Assembling the tiers would not be difficult, and he would only have to leave an hour before his father and Carole. He was helping Burt get dressed before hustling over and doing his almost-stepmother's hair and makeup and _then_ dressing himself.

No, Kurt would never plan another wedding, apart from his own, again.

He could hear the _snick_ of the knife on the cutting board behind him and was calmed by Sam's peaceful company. He was such a restful person to be around. Sure, the blond could get bouncy and enthusiastic but, for the most part, he was such a chill guy.

Unlike Kurt, who was notoriously and admittedly high strung. Since the pair of them starting dating, the fair teen felt that he had relaxed considerably. He hoped. Maybe?

Behind him, he heard Sam sigh in satisfaction. "All done," he said. "Want me to rinse the other berries? Are you ready for them?"

Kurt put the finishing touches on the last ribbon and nodded, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. Sam smiled at the habit and grabbed the raspberries and blueberries from the fridge and gave them a good rinse.

He placed them near Kurt's hands and peered over his shoulder. "They look great," he said admiringly. Kurt just grinned and elbowed him lightly.

"They're not even done yet," he said shyly.

Sam shrugged. "Still, it looks really good. I can't wait until tomorrow," he teased.

Kurt smiled and nodded in agreement but there was an anxiety that hadn't been there a few hours ago thanks to Susan. He couldn't wait to watch his father get married to the woman he loved, they both loved, but he couldn't help but dread the number of things that could go wrong on the big day, including a confrontation with his aunt.

The next hour went by quickly and before he knew it Sam was waist deep in one of the deep freezers, rearranging all the things inside to make room for the cake. He turned the temperature to something that wouldn't freeze the cake solid and carefully placed the delicate tiers into the cool container.

"So, I'll come by about three hours or so before the wedding? Then we can ride over together and I'll have enough time to put together the cake and still help everyone get ready."

Sam nodded and pressed a kiss to Kurt's tense mouth. "As much as I'd like you to stay," he murmured. "You should probably get on home and try to get as much sleep as you can."

The slender teen was just as reluctant to part with Sam but recognized the sound logic he presented. "You're right."

The blond winked and smiled at him smugly, helping Kurt to gather his things and walk him out to his Navigator. Kurt unenthusiastically got in the driver's seat and sighed as he looked at Sam, not wanting to close the door and make his way home.

"I know, baby," Sam whispered. He reached out and brushed back Kurt's bangs. "Text me when you get home."

He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Kurt's mouth before softly shutting the door with a dull _whump_. He stood in the drive and watched as his boyfriend pulled away, a sullen look on his face.

He ambled back towards his house, hoping his mother was still awake. He didn't think Kurt was going to be as alright as he claimed, and he definitely needed to talk to his mom about the events of the night. Sam always felt better after sharing his burden with his family, and while he was fairly confident in his ability to be there for Kurt, no matter the circumstances, a little advice wouldn't be remiss.

* * *

Kurt was going to be sick. He had never been so stressed in his life. There was about ten minutes before Carole would glide down the aisle to meet his father at the altar and he had locked himself in the bathroom with an offhand comment about fixing his hair.

Outside the door he could hear the soft, droning voices of Carole's bridesmaids and a few family members, laughing excitedly, and the ruffle of satin and silk.

He sat on the closed lid of the toilet and dropped his head into his hands, breathing deeply and steadily in hopes of making his jumping heart calm down.

The cake had nearly been a catastrophe. One of the boorish servers had decided the cake table needed to be moved and merely pushed at it, sending it roughly across the floor just moments after Kurt had painstakingly assembled it.

He watched as it wobbled precariously and vocalized his displeasure shrilly until the recalcitrant waiter stopped. Thankfully, Sam had come up to the Winston House with him and had been there to calm him down nearly every step of the way.

He had been there to take speak with Jennifer when the bows at the ceremony site had suddenly been replaced with wreaths, when all Kurt could do was gesture frantically. He had been there when Kurt had discovered the reputable DJ they had hired had been replaced with his nephew that had subtly attempted to change the playlist he had been given because he felt that their choice of first dance was "totally lame".

However, Sam _hadn't_ been there when he went out to his car to grab the dress socks that had managed to escape his suit bag and he'd discovered his aunt and her brood unloading from their van. Her eyes focused on him immediately and he practically dove into the car, grabbed his socks, and ran up to the bridal suite like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Carole and her bridal party started when he burst into the room. He simply grinned and shivered exaggeratedly, causing them all to titter and dismiss the matter. They all turned back and cooed over Carole, enabling him to indulge in a moment of shameless, self-indulgent panic.

After he composed himself he spent the moments until the ceremony in a cloud of powder and hairspray. Not only did he do Carole's hair and makeup, but that of her bridal party as well. Had he known absolutely none of her bridesmaids (matrons?) had bothered to make appointments or even have a _plan_ on how they were going to prepare for one of their beloved friend's big days, he would have come even earlier.

As it was, he was fairly certain he had just shaved years off his life by inhaling an entire can of aerosol hairspray. While _he_ bought all natural products, it seems Carole and her friends did not abide by the same practice.

He exhaled one last time and looked at himself in the mirror. He flicked his fingers through his hair and spritzed some of his own gentler hairspray on his hair and patting at his face with a cool cloth.

There came a tentative knock at the door and Carole peeked her head in tentatively as if sensing that Kurt was in distress. "Kurt, honey?" she began. "Are you nearly ready? Finn is here and we're all ready to go as soon as you are."

Kurt managed to muster a genuine smile for the woman that was about to become his mother. "I'm ready," he said, stepping out of the bathroom. He pressed a gentle kiss to her rosy cheek and willed back his tears. "You look wonderful," he murmured sincerely.

She gave him a watery grin and rubbed his arm comfortingly. He turned to Finn, filling the role of the one to give his mother away, and smiled in pleased shock. "Wow! Don't we look sharp?"

The lanky teen flushed under all the scrutiny, but he did indeed look dashing. Kurt stood firm in his belief that a simple, well-fitting black suit looked good on every man, and this was no exception. There was a splash of color in the form of his crimson tie and pocket square and he looked mature beyond his years.

"Thanks," the tall boy mumbled. "Um, you look good too?"

Kurt chuckled, knowing that the questioning tone came more from not knowing what looked good than not wanting to appear gay. He was so glad that they were passed all that that he couldn't even articulate it properly.

"I'll see you two in a few minutes," he said with a wave, weaving his way through the red-clad bridal party and to the door.

He made his way to the ceremony site, where his father and the groomsmen all milled about impatiently. He approached his father and grinned at him warmly. "Ready, Dad?"

Burt huffed out a relieved breath. "Bambi," he sighed in relief. "Good, we were just waiting for you to start."

He hugged his father and straightened his tie. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Now, let's get you married."

His dad took a deep, shaky breath and nodded to Kurt once. The fair boy waved to Jennifer and the owner of the property motioned for all the guests to take their places.

There was a general flurry of activity as members of two families mingled and took their seats. After everyone was settled the groomsman took their places before his father took his solo march up the aisle, a nervous, yet serious, expression on his face.

They stood at the altar, the non-denominational officiate beaming at them as the Vivaldi's "Primavera" started up, signaling the procession of bridesmaids.

Carole's bridal party consisted of only three women, and Kurt was grateful. Judging from the nervous excitement humming through his father's body, he most likely would have charged down the aisle to retrieve Carole had there been any more, unable to stand the delay.

When the future Mrs. Hummel walked down the aisle there was an audible intake of breath. Wagner's traditional bridal march played and Carole appeared, carrying her bouquet of Queen Anne's lace and hydrangea.

Her dress was made of a simple ivory silk, hugging her body loosely. It was gathered to one side with a bejeweled embellishment. The fabric draped over her one shoulder in an effortless wave, adding a bit of modernity to an otherwise conventional dress.

She made her way up the aisle, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Kurt found himself sniffling right alongside his father and was surprised to note that Finn was teary-eyed as he escorted his mother down the aisle.

They finally reached the altar and Finn handed his mother off to Burt before stepping into place behind her in a practiced motion, thanks to the rehearsal dinner last night.

Kurt dug into his pocket, searching for the handkerchief Sam had given him (read: that he'd stolen). He dabbed at his eyes gently, trying to focus on the heartwarming vows that his father and Carole were sure to exchange any moment.

The officiate grinned at them warmly before giving a speech on the value of family. Though they were all missing parts, they had formed a new family together, all the more special because they had chosen it.

He chanced a look over the crowd assembled, catching Sam's eyes instantly. The blond winked slowly and mouthed "I love you," to him, making him have use for his handkerchief again. Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn't imaging himself and Sam in this position in the not-too-distant future.

Finally, Burt took a deep breath and cleared his throat, rummaging in his pockets for the piece of stationary he'd written his vows on.

To keep himself from a shameful display of weeping he focused on the guests and attempted to block out their heartfelt words. He'd watch them on the DVD, where he could cry in the privacy of his own home.

His eyes lingered over Sam's family and his friends from New Directions. Rachel was beaming up at them with a wistful look on her face. Kurt had to stamp down a moment of panic, thinking that she was fixated on his new brother once more.

He nearly wilted in relief when he realized she was gazing up at Jesse, sitting a few rows in front of her. He knew his friend was desperate to be the future Mrs. Fill in the Blank, and had been with every person she dated.

Kurt knew he wanted to get married, but it wasn't his goal. He relished his relationship with Sam, and he knew that for him at least, he was the one. But he also knew they had time.

He thought of all the things he wanted to do with Sam before they were married; go on vacation together, move in with one another, go shopping for their home, adopt a pet together, celebrate promotions and graduations, and then yes, marriage, but there was just so much else!

He reluctantly tore his eyes away from those he knew and sought out Susan and her two children. He didn't know their names, and he had been so frightened when he saw them before the ceremony he hadn't even taken notice of their gender.

He eventually found her, an unnamable expression on her face. Kurt wanted to say it was regret, but it looked a touch to self-indulgent to be definitively so. He didn't doubt that she pitied herself, blaming her actions solely on her husband.

Kurt didn't care if he was resisting her out of sheer bloody-mindedness, but she wouldn't fool him with that act. She _chose_ to abandon him; she _chose_ to marry that bigoted prick. He wouldn't forgive her so easily.

He startled out of his reverie by a general change in the atmosphere. He focused back on the ceremony and noticed it was now time for the traditional vows before the big "I do,".

He reached into his jacket and patted the place where he knew the ring would be, Finn holding the other. Kurt handed the ring to his father when prompted and allowed a few more dignified tears to leak out. He chuckled when Finn had to be reminded and then the following panic and embarrassment the tall boy experience, providing the perfect tension reliever for an otherwise serious moment.

And then it was over.

Carole and Burt grabbed each other in a jubilant kiss and all but ran down the aisle and up the stairs to the veranda where cocktail hour would be held during the beautiful, rustic sunset.

Kurt found himself motionless, filled with emotion. He slowly descended from the raised platform the altar had been set on hovered behind the majority of the guests, content to wait while they slowly made their way to the happy couple.

He felt Sam's quiet presence come up beside him and smiled, wordlessly leaning back onto his broad chest. The blond pressed a kiss behind his ear and Kurt shivered, hoping to pass it off as the cold.

"It was beautiful," Sam murmured. "You did such a good job."

Kurt chuckled mirthlessly. "The night is still young," he replied.

The tanned teen nudged him with his shoulder. "Don't be such a Negative Nancy."

The slim boy chuckled and turned, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "You're right," he said. "I'm just…nervous."

"Because of them?" he asked, and Kurt didn't need to clarify who he was speaking about. He nodded wordlessly and sighed, burying his head in the crook of his neck.

"Let's not worry about," Kurt said abruptly. "I'm not going to let them ruin my father's wedding; for anyone."

Sam grinned at him proudly and looked around once more. "You really did do a good job," he said seriously. He worried his lip between his teeth and looked at Kurt shyly. "Think you have one more in you?"

Kurt smirked and leaned forward, resting his head on Sam's collarbone. "Don't get your hopes up," he said derisively.

He could feel the shock that went through Sam and gave a crocodile's grin before ending his misery. He looked up at the other boy with a glint in his eye. "I want a Spring wedding."

Sam's breath left him in a rush and he laughed weakly before eying him adoringly. "I'll keep that in mind."

_Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Nearly a year in the making and more words and reviews than I ever imagined.
> 
> I understand that there are a few things that I have left unresolved, such as the reappearing family members and college; I did that on purpose. After all, I need something to talk about in the sequel!
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed my little slice of Hevan!
> 
> Hugs and love,
> 
> E. Claire


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